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The Princess Roubine. 


A RUSSIAN STORY. 


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AUTHOR OF 


BY 

DOSIA, 


HENRY GREYILLE. 

"SAVELI’S EXPIATION,” 


MARRYING OFF 


A DAUGHTER, 

ZITKA," '‘THE PRINCESS OGHEROF,’^ “ MAM’zELLE EUGENIE,” " MARKOF,” 
‘‘SYLVIE’S BETROTHED,” “ DOURNOF,” “ GABRIELLE,” “ BONNE-MARIE, 
‘‘LUCIE RODEY,” ‘‘ XENIE’S INHERITANCE,” “TANIA’S PERIL," 
‘‘PRETTY LITTLE COUNTESS ZINA,” “SONIA,” ‘‘A FRIEND,” 

“ PHILOMENE’S MARRIAGES,” “guy’s MARRIAGE.” 




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TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 

BY GEORGE D. COX. 






‘‘The Princess Roubine,” by Henry Greville, is one of the most delicious and 
captivating novels of the day. It breathes an atmosphere of love from beginning to end, 
and literally teems with interest. A better and purer love story is not to be found in any 
language. There is no sickly sentimentality about it, even its most impassioned love 
scenes having a practical element at once unique and refreshing. Nadia, the heroine, 
is a wealthy Russian princess with amazingly democratic ideas, who registers a solemn 
vow to marry a poor man. This vow she keeps to the letter, but in a manner that 
shows consummate ingenuity on the part of the gifted author. Korzofs courtship is a 
delightful episode that no one can ever forget, and the subsequent career of the married 
pair, with the unparalleled heroism, sacrifice and love involved, will touch every heart 
to its inmost recesses. Volodia and Martha are charming characters, fully worthy of 
the charming novel. The action takes place chiefly in St. Petersburg, though there are 
fascinating glimpses of the country and the Neva. “The Princess Roubine” is a 
book that all will read and vastly relish. It is an exact reproduction of the original. 



. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 

306 CHESTNUT STREET. 


T 


copyright: — 1887 . 

T. B. PETERSON &c IB ZEROTH BBS. 


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HENRY GREVILLFS CELEBRATED NOVELS. 

Zitka; or. The Trials of Raissa. A Russian Love Story. By Henry Gri- 
ville. The book from which the popular play of “Zitka” has been dramatized. 


Dosia. A Charming Story of Russian Society. By Henry GreviUe, author of 
“ Saveli’s Expiation,” “Sonia,” “The Princess Ogherof,” “ Bonne-Maiie,” etc. 


Saveli’s Expiation. A Powerful Russian Love Story By Henry Greville, author 
of “Dosia,” “ Sonia, ” “The Princess Ogherof,” “Marrying off a Daughter,” etc. 


Marrying 1 Off a Daughter. A Society Novel. By Henry Greville, author 
“Dosia,” “Saveli’s Expiation,” “Sonia,’’ “The Princess Ogherof,” “ Dournof,” etc. 


Pretty Tittle Countess Zina. A Charming Russian Story. By Henry 
Greville, , author of “Dosia,” “Saveli’s Expiation,” “Sonia,” “Bonne-Marie,” etc. 


Sylvie’s Betrothed. A Charming Love Story. By Henry Greville , author of 
“Dosia,” “Saveli’s Expiation,” “Sonia,” “The Princess Ogherof,” “Dournof,” etc. 


The Princess Ogherof. A Russian Love Story. By Henry Griville , author of 
“Dosia,” “Saveli’s Expiation,” “Bonne-Marie,” “Marrying off a Daughter,” etc. 


Philomfcne’s Marriages. A Tale of French Life in Normandy and Paris. By 
Henry Greville , author of “ Dosia,” “Saveli’s Expiation,” “Bonne-Marie,” etc. 


Eucie Rodey. A New Society Novel. By Henry Greville , author of “ Dosia,” 
“Saveli’s Expiation,” “Sonia,” “The Princess Ogherof,” “Bonne-Marie,” etc. 


Markof, The Russian Violinist. A Russian Story. By Henry Greville , 
author of “Dosia,” “Saveli’s Expiation,” “Sonia,” “The Princess Ogherof,” etc. 


Dournof. A Russian Story. By Henry Greville , author of “ Dosia,” “ Saveli’s 
Expiation,” “Sonia,” “The Princess Oguerof,” “Marrying off a Daughter,” etc. 


Xenie’s Inheritance. A Tale of Russian Life. By Henry Greville, author of 
“Dosia,” “Saveli’s Expiation,” “Sonia,” “The Princess Ogherof,” “Dournof,” etc. 


Tania’S Peril. A Russian Story. By Henry Greville , author of “Dosia.” 


Bonne>Marie. A Tale of Normandy. By Henry Gr6ville , author of “Dosia.” 


A Friend. By Henry Greville, author of “Dosia,” “ Saveli’s Expiation,” etc. 


Sonia. A Russian Love Story. By Henry Greville , authoi of “ Dosia,” etc. 


Gakrielle; or. The House of Maureze. By Henry Greville. 


Guy’s Marriage; or. The Shadow of a Sin. By Henry Greville. 


Mam’zelle Eugenie. A Charming Russian Love Story. By Henry Greville . 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter. Page 

I. THE VOW 5 

II. FEODOR STEPLINE 87 

hi. korzof’s declaration 54 

IV. BETROTHED 71 

V. A RUSSIAN WEDDING 89 

VI. INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL 107 

VII. THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL 123 

VIII. THE TWO ORPHANS 139 

IX. THE PESTILENCE 156 

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X. NICHOLAS STEPLINE 172 

XI. TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE 188 

XII. FROM SORROW TO BLISS 206 

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THE PRINCESS ROUBINE 

A RUSSIAN STORY. 

BY HENRY GRfCVILLE. 

i!*T30R OP “DOSIA,” “SAVELI’S EXPIATION,” “ZITKA,” “TANIA’S PERIL,” 
“PRETTY LITTLE COUNTESS ZINA,” “MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER,” 
•SONIA,” “THE PRINCESS OOnEROF,” ‘ MARKOF,” “A FRIEND, 1 ' 
“MAM’ZELLE EUGENIE,” “DOURNOF,” “SYLVIE’S BETROTHED,” 
“GABRIELLE,” “BONNE-MARIE,” “ PUII.OMENE’S MARRIAGES,” 

“LUCIE RODEY,” “XENIE’S INHERITANCE,” ETC., ETC. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE VOW. 

The Prince Roubine was smoking his after-dinner 
cigar upon the terrace; stretched out in a rocking-chair 
of bamboo, he rocked himself carelessly as he gazed 
at the landscape gilded by the evening rays. 

Beneath his eyes spread out the gulf ; the right shore 
was shaded with a light red vapor, in which were barely 
visible in darker colors the granite masses of the coast 
of Finland; the blue water swashed gently on the strand 
at the foot of his garden, the wide avenues of which 
descended as far as the sea. To the right, the town of 

( 21 ) 


22 


THE VOW. 


Peterhof lay in the form of an amphitheater, displaying 
the factitious animation of towns at the waterside, where 
people hasten to live during the three months of the 
summer, the steamboats that run to St. Petersburg were 
smoking and rumbling beside the long landing, deposit- 
ing numerous passengers come to hear the music in the 
imperial gardens or to pass the evening with some friend; 
elegant uniforms of officers of all the arms were visible 
upon the quay, the light dresses of the women seemed 
so many flowers on the dark mass of verdure of the park, 
and all the exuberance of Russian society life appeared 
to be collected in this corner of the land. 

To the left, the villas thinly sown amid the foliage, the 
sloping strand that seemed to be stealing away from the 
clasp of the sea, rested the sight and the mind. 

The Prince was blasd in regard to the spectacle of the 
town, perhaps he was still more so in regard to that of 
the sea and the landscape; but surely he was not blase 
in regard to the charm of hot and delicious coffee, of an 
exquisite cigar, of a comfortable rocking-chair; these 
were enjoyments, the intensity of which, far from decreas- 
ing, seemed to increase with habit; hence he raised him- 
self up m his chair with a little quiver of happiness at 
the moment when his cup of coffee was placed as if by 
enchantment within reach of his hand. 

“Oh I you bad father, not to say as much as thank 
you!” cried a joking voice, as a soft, caressing hand was 
laid on Roubine’s shoulder. 

“Is it you, Nadra?” said he, turning around. 

“Yes, it is I! Would your coffee be good if it were 
poured out by another hand than mine?” 

The Prince took his daughter’s hand, examined it 
attentively, turned the rings upon it, then smilingly 
looked at the pretty face bent over him and answered : 

“No, that’s clear! What will they do this evening?” 


THE VOW. 


23 


“ They are going to hear the music. The program 
gives plenty of fine promises; the fountains will play and 
be illuminated with the electric light. In addition a 
superb concert ” 

“Perfectly splendid! Of course we will go?” 

“Certainly! I ordered the caliche and the yellow dun 
horses to be in readiness at nine o’clock.” 

“Very well,” carelessly said the happy father. “Sit 
down, Nadia; you prevent me from seeing a vessel that 
has arrived at Cronstadt.” 

The young girl turned quickly, put her hand above 
her eyes, that the sun blinded, and gazed at the large 
craft that, after several skillfully executed maneuvers, 
stopped before the granite fortress. 

A commotion among the boats around took place im- 
mediately. The Prince took up a spy glass that never 
quitted the terrace and watched the distant movement. 

“ I can’t make out what the vessel is,” said he, after a 
moment’s attentive survey. 

“ Some German bark,” said his daughter, negligently. 

They chatted about this and that for an instant, then 
Roubine again took up his spy -glass. 

“Look now, Nadia,” said he, “a little steam yacht is 
coming this way ! ” 

In truth, an elegant pleasure craft was crossing the 
gulf and coming under a full head of steam toward 
Peterhof; the flag floated out behind, sometimes dipping 
in the blue water, and a flame danced at the top of the 
mast. 

“I’ll wager it’s Korzof!” joyously cried the Prince, 
“it’s Korzof returning from Germany, He has come by 
vessel to be at Peterhof on his arrival, and has directed 
his yacht to be in waiting for him. That’s just like him ! 
But, Nadia, if it’s Korzof, he’ll be here before a couple 
of hours have elapsed ! ” 


24 


THE VOW. 


“ It won’t take him as long as that,” calmly said the 
young girl, who had turned her back to the gulf. 

“ Give him time to arrange his toilet a little,” observed 
her father. 

“He can accomplish that operation on board his 
yacht,” answered Nadia, in the same cold tone. 

“How indifferent you seem I” exclaimed the Prince, 
as he put clown the spy-glass and looked at his daughter. 
“I imagined that you had a great deal of friendship for 
him! ” 

“ I have a great deal of friendship for Dmitri Korzof,” 
replied the young girl; “but mv friendship, as you 
know, father, does not express itself after the fashion of 
that of dogs that, barking, make a hundred turns around 
the object of their tenderness.” 

“Yes, I know; you are for concentrated feelings,” said 
the Prince, with a little irony. 

He resumed the spy glass and watched the progress of 
the yacht, that was approaching rapidly. 

“Wait,” said he, “we will soon find out if it is 
Korzof.” 

A tap on a bell placed upon the table summoned a 
servant. Roubine gave him his orders and descended 
from the terrace into the flower garden situated a few 
steps below. From there an opening skillfully contrived 
among the tree tops of the garden gave a view of a por- 
tion of the gulf. 

After a few instants a gigantic flag, that bore on a red 
ground the arms of the Roubines, spread out over the 
roof of the villa and mounted majestically to the top of 
the flagstaff. 

The report of a small piece of artillery replied to this 
signal; Nadia could see the white smoke fly from the 
stern of the yacht, and the flame on the mast mounted 
and descended again rapidly. In its turn, the princely 


THE VOW. 


25 


flag descended and mounted again three times, then sank 
down, like a bird that folds its wings, and disappeared. 

u It is he I” joyously cried the Prince. “He answered 
at once. I presume that he also had his spy-glass lev- 
eled upon the terrace. Eh! Nadia?” 

Nadia did not answer. The cannon report had brought 
a slight blush to her pale cheeks. She turned away and 
picked two roses from a veritably fabulous rose-bush, a 
special and priceless product of Roubine’s celebrated 
green-house, transplanted into the flower-garden to charm 
the sight and the smell for a few days, then to die there 
and see itself replaced by another. 

A caliche drawn by a pair of bay horses, irreproach- 
able in form and bearing, passed rapidly over the high- 
way; the Prince turned in time to catch a glimpse of 
them, or rather to guess at them, through the grating. 

“There goes Korzofs equipage to meet him at the 
landing-place! It is very amusing! Say, Nadia, the 
cannon quite likely was not fired for us! It was, per- 
haps, for his horses ! ” 

“If orders had not been given in advance,” answered 
the young girl in her cold tone, u they would not have 
had time to harness up so quickly!” 

“Ah! quite right!” said the Prince, looking at his 
daughter out of the corner of his eye. 

One of his favorite pastimes consisted in discreetly 
teasing her, without apparent design, which he did 
superbly. 

“Do you change your toilet to go hear the music?” 
resumed he, after a short silence, during which Nadia 
had picked a handful of flowers that she let fall at her 
feet when she turned to listen to him, keeping in her 
hand only the two roses. 

She glanced at her white batiste dress, covered with 
lace, and answered with a negative shake of the head. 


26 


tiie vow. 


“ I dressed myself before dinner,” added she. 

“I know, but I thought you had perhaps modified 
your plans,” continued the Prince, in the same tone of 
light persiflage. 

“ And why, pray?” asked Nadia, looking him full in 
the face, with a proud light in her beautiful dark gray 
eyes. 

“I adore you, my dear daughter!” said the happy 
father, drawing her to him to kiss her. “ I am a terrible 
father ; I would like to know everything.” 

“You do know everything!” responded she* with 
delightful frankness. 

“To guess everything, then!” continued Roubine, 
placing his daughter’s arm in his, — “to guess before you 
know yourself!” 

Nadia lowered her head; the Prince went on: 

“I am at once your father and your mother, my dear 
Nadia; I am afraid of not loving you enough, or of lov 
ing you ill, or of loving you too much; if your admirable 
mother were alive, I should rest easy in regard to your 
happiness; but since we have lost her, we must love 
each other more in the first place, and then have more 
confidence still the one in the other. But I am not cal- 
culated to attract your confidence, Nadia ” 

“Oh! father!” interrupted the young girl, reproach- 
fully, as she bent down to kiss the hand that retained 
hers. 

“I mean that I am too young a father, a trifle given to 
teasing; that I am not the absolutely serious and patri- 
archal man who represents the ideal of^a father; I have 
nothing of the confessor about me, Nadia; I have rather 
the air of a comrade! What I say is true! In the 
midst of those young fellows who pay court to you I feel 
as young as they, and when they pay you a compliment 
to tell you that you are graceful and witty, I Qften say to 


THE VOW. 


27 


myself that they do it awkwardly, and that I could do 
it better, with more grace, and sometimes with more 
truth. Admit, Nadia, that I am a very singular father! ” 

“Not at all!” resumed the young girl, raising towards 
the Prince her pretty eyes full of filial tenderness; “you 
are an adorable and an adored father.” 

“And you are the most charming of daughters!” 
replied Roubine, gazing at her with pride. 

In truth, Nadia Roubine was one of the most beautiful 
young ladies of the court. Tall and slender, with that 
reed-like flexibility which is such a great charm in the 
Russian young ladies, she proudly bore the thick and 
heavy crown of dark golden hair that decked her head; 
her magnificent eves had never lied — when politeness 
obliged her to restrain herself, they protested in spite of 
her against this violation of the truth. Her mouth, 
somewhat large, was of a firm and pure design, and her 
smile discovered large teeth, a trifle wide apart, but per- 
fect in form and color. With this the young Princess 
Roubine possessed a natural artistic feeling that made 
her fear the excess of bad taste in her toilet and all that 
approached it; hence she lacked neither flatterers nor 
envious friends. 

They had paused upon the terrace, and Nadia was 
looking at the sea, that, was changing color in the 
decreasing light of day, when a carriage stopped in front 
of the villa, and the horses, suddenly checked, made the 
metal of their curbs dance. 

Almost at the same instant Dmitri Korzof appeared in 
the embrasure of the glazed door that communicated 
with the terrace. 

“How are you, Prince?” said he. “I saw your signal. 
I have taken the pleasure of coming to thank you ” 

He bowed to the young girl, who presented him her 
hand, and he raised it respectfully to his lips. 


28 


THE VOW. 


“Returning home after an absence of four months,” 
said he, “you cannot imagine how the sight of your flag 
made my heart beat.” 

“More than that of the national flag? ” asked the young 
girl, slightly frowning. 

“It was not at all the same thing,” answered the new 
arrival, with a luminous smile that well became his brave 
and intelligent countenance. “The Russian flag repre- 
sented the country j yours, Princess, represented — repre- 
sented friendship.” 

“He did not dare to say the family!” cried the Prince, 
laughing, while Korzof blushed and Nadia turned away 
her head with a disconcerted air. “He did not dare 
because he has a ferocious sister, who is jealous of all 
his friends! The Countess is still jealous, eh? ” 

“Yes, and more than ever,” answered Korzof, also 
laughing. “But that don’t prevent me, my dear Prince, 
from loving you like a relative ; in reality, my sister is 
well aware of this, and is enchanted at it. I need not 
ask if you are in good health. The sea air agrees with 
you marvelously, Princess.” 

“What assurance to call this the sea!” said Roubine; 
“ a small arm of the gulf without tides ” 

“But not without tempests,” interrupted the young 
traveler. “Come, Prince, be indulgent, and let the world 
make the most of what it has. That’s philosophy, isn’t 
it, Princess?” 

Nadia smiled and did not reply. 

“You are going to hear the music after awhile?” 
demanded Roubine, when Korzof was about to quit them. 

“Certainly. Had it not been for that I should not 
have hurried so. I am going home to take a look 
around and will rejoin you. You are going to hear the 
music without doubt ? ” 

Nadia nodded her head affirmatively. The young 


THE VOW. 


29 


man bowed to her, grasped her father’s hand, and an 
instant afterwards the caliche passed before the grating 
of the garden, the superb horses dashing along at a trot. 

Roubine glanced at his daughter out of the corner of 
his eye ; she seemed very calm ; a slight color tinted her 
cheeks, ordinarily of a white tone. 

“ How do you find him ? ” asked he, taking Nadia’s 
arm in his. 

“ About as usual,” answered she, tranquilly. “ A trifle 
tanned, but that is natural enough ■ they say that a sea 
voyage always produces that effect.” 

The Prince, disappointed, quitted his daughter’s arm, 
and took two steps toward the salon. 

“ Will you have a little music, father? ” said she, imme- 
diately rejoining him. 

“ The caliche is at the door,” said a footman upon the 
threshold of the salon. 

Nadia put on a coquettish straw hat, wrapped herself 
in a slight gold embroidered bournous and entered an ele- 
gant low carriage well-known to all the brilliant youth 
of Peterhof. Her father seated himself beside her and 
they rolled toward the park, drawn rapidly by two yel- 
low-dun horses, unique in Russia that year and priceless. 

The sun was about setting. In those days, the longest 
of the year, it did not vanish from the horizon until 
about half-past nine o’clock in the evening. Its last rays 
of ruddy gold, coloring the cupolas of the palace, threaded 
a lofty avenue and illuminated the colossal Samson over- 
throwing the lion that seemed carved from a massive 
block of gold, in the midst of a vast sheet of water. 

Suddenly a hollow gurgle was heard and an enor- 
mous mass of water shot toward the sky in a single 
bound, leaping from the mouth of the monster, then 
fell back in the shape of a sheaf into the basin. The 
noise of running water spread throughout the park, 


30 


THE VOW. 


and the military orchestra placed in front of the chateau 
amid the flower beds sent forth its first solemn accord. 

It was a fete, the repetition of which had surfeited 
those who were its almost daily witnesses, but Nadia 
was not surfeited. While living amid luxury such as 
very few knew, she had preserved a freshness of impres- 
sions rare among the young girls of her age and condi- 
tion. Seated in a chair amid a group of adorers, she 
was watching the gigantic column of foam and trans- 
parent spray launched forth by the gilded lion stand out 
against the blue sea, against the already pearl-gray sky. 
In the caprices of the light and of the wave she found a 
captivating charm that soothed the melancholy of her 
secret thoughts. 

Around her society life was buzzing ; the fair prome- 
naders, amiable and coquettish, had installed themselves 
to enjoy the freshness of the evening, with the sound of 
rustling silk which evoked ideas of wealth and comfort; 
the spurs of the officers of the guard made a sonorous 
clatter, and the gold-thread tassels resounded against the 
metal of the scabbards of their swords. The continual 
roll of carriages, deadened by a thick coat of gravel, 
seemed like distant thunder; the orchestra continued the 
overture of “ Euryanthe,” that speaks so beautifully of 
forests and solitudes, and, without hearing the idle words 
exchanged around her, Nadia, her eyes lost in the far-off 
sky, watched the first star come out in the yet bright 
azure. 

She profoundly enjoyed all these exquisite things, the 
fruit of brilliant civilization; the contrast of an artificial 
luxury with the imperishable wealth of nature, the rust- 
ling of silken garments beneath the almost impercepti- 
ble murmur of the tall lindens, the sparkle of the gilded 
bronze against the opaline half- tint of the sea that 
formed the background of this magnificent picture 


THE VOW. 


31 


doubled the power of ber sensations. But, while expe- 
riencing the delight of this artistic enjoyment, she could 
not prevent herself from remembering other pictures; 
her reading and the general tendency of her mind led 
her to think of those who toiled obscurely to produce 
the gold that paid for these pleasures and the materials 
composing them. Deprived too young of her mother, 
who would have put more moderation in her teachings, 
Nadia, educated by an English instructress, a strict ob- 
server of the laws of duty and morality, had acquired 
from her a love of the people, a sympathy with their 
sufferings that, gradually exaggerated by her naturally 
enthusiastic tendency, had taken the strength and the 
empire of a fixed idea. 

The good she scattered around her did not satisfy her. 
During the years of her youth her purse, incessantly 
filled by her father, had been incessantly emptied 
into hands more greedy than meritorious, Some 
disillusions in this path inspired her with a desire of 
attacking the evil at its source, instead of seeking to 
weaken it in its effects. Nadia then did like the major- 
ity of the rich young girls of her epoch She had in 
the country her Sunday-school, where the children of the 
neighboring villages were attracted by the promise of 
rewards; she was numbered among the founders of a 
nursery, an orphan asylum, a house of refuge. Her 
name figured in all the charity lists beside considerable 
sums. But before reaching her nineteenth year she 
learned the emptiness of these works, undertaken at 
great expense by inexperienced women, who ex- 
pended ten times the sum necessary to do the good 
desired and only obtained a result sometimes amounting 
to nothing, always mediocre, from lack of knowing how 
or wishing to put aside all ruinous and useless ostenta- 
tion. 


32 


THE VOW. 


“And you, Princess, are you interested in the new 
orphan asylum?” asked a voice near her. 

She was so far from Peterhof and the flower garden 
that she could not repress a start. 

“Pardon,” said she, recovering herself. “I was think-/ 
ing of something else. Of what were you speaking?” 7 

“ Of the new orphan asylum founded by the Countess 
Brazof. She has purchased a house in old St. Peters- 
burg there to receive the orphan daughters of workmen. 
You are interested in it, without doubt?” 

“ISTo,” answered Nadia. 

“Why? if I may be permitted, Princess, to ask you 
this question,” resumed the young aide-de-camp who 
had interrogated her. 

“Because all such enterprises finish in the same way. 
Either they have no orphans, I know not why, or they 
have no employes because they steal or are incapable, or 
they have no money because the charitable persons get 
tired of giving it, seeing that the affair makes no pro- 
gress. I am not for collective charities.” 

A murmur of approbation arose from the group. If 
Nadia had said exactly the contrary the approval would 
have been exactly the same. The group consisted of six 
young officers of the guard, a Major General of thirty- 
four and two attaches of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 
who were absolutely brutalized by the adoration with 
which the young Princess inspired them. 

“You are so good, Princess I” cried the General. 
“You work more benefits alone by yourself.” 

“ Chut!” interrupted the young girl, raising her fan to 
her lips, “respect the music!” 

Nadia’s court immediately fell into profound silence, 
and everybody endeavored to listen with the most sus- 
tained attention to the particular pot-pourri that the mili- 
tary orchestra was executing. Nadia exchanged a jeer- 


THE VOW. 


83 


ing glance with her father, the confidant of all her mis- 
chief, and they stealthily smiled at each other, then 
resumed the appearance of sang froid. 

Two or three ladies approached and chatted an instant 
with Nadia. The Countess Mazourine, her aunt, seated 
herself beside her, as she usually did. She was a dame of 
honor of the defhnct Empress, a woman with a large 
heart and a very sensible turn of mind, who replaced as 
much as possible with her niece the mother who died 
too soon. The conversation continued by fits, according 
to the caprices of the young girl, who chatted during 
the morceaux of music that did not please her and 
ordained silence for the others. The stars were rapidly 
nd the evening was advan- 



struck when Korzof ap- 


proached the group about the spot where the young 
Princess was enthroned. 

“At last!” said Roubine. “I thought you had given 
us the slip.” 

“I have been hunting you for the last half hour. You 
have changed the place of your sittings, mademoiselle? 
Formerly — I mean last year — you were to be found much 
nearer the orchestra.” 

“One is better here; it is almost a solitude, and the 
longer I live the more I love solitude,” replied Nadia. 

“It will never be solitude where you are found!” gal- 
lantly said the aide-de-camp. 

Nadia smiled with a disdainful air and expressed her 
thanks by a slight nod. Korzof had seated himself in 
front of her; by the light of these June evenings he 
could read the young girl’s face as well as in broad day. 

“What’s the news?” asked he of his nearest neighbor. 
“I have been four days without communication with the 
civilized world. These steamship voyages are almost 
like a sojourn in prison in that respect.” 


2 


84 


THE VOW. 


“In prison yon can at least sometimes procure a file to 
cut away your bars, can you not? ” said Roubine, who 
had grown gay since the arrival of the young man in 
their circle. 

“Yes, they say so,” resumed Korzof; “and then, more- 
over, if one is sentenced it is for something, and that 
occupies one, while on board a ship — ” 

“You don’t know what to think about,” said Nadia, 
raising her head to glance at the young man. “You 
have nothing in or around you with which to occupy 
your mind.” 

“I ask your pardon, mademoiselle; my mind and heart 
are full of grave things; but as they are neither encour- 
aging nor encouraged,” added he in a lower tone, “ these 
thoughts are companions void of gayety. Tell me now 
what is being done in society; who is dead, born or mar- 
ried?” 

“ There are but few deaths to note, and those uninter- 
esting ones,” rejoined the Prince; “no births that I am 
aware of, but as many marriages as you may want. Olga 
Rdzine has wedded Bachmakof, Moraline has wedded 
Mademoiselle Kouref — let me think — Natacha Doubler 
has w r edded old Serguinof” 

“A love match?” demanded Korzof, smiling. 

Nadia’s voice was heard, trembling a trifle with anger 
or emotion. 

“ As much on one side as on the other,” said she. 

The music paused at that moment; they were far 
removed from the noisy conversation; the only sound 
that accompanied her voice was that of the leaping 
waters that fell back in a shower into the basins. 

“Natacha has wedded an old husband because he 
brings her a fortune, and Serguinof has wedded the 
young girl because she is handsome, well brought up and 
will make his home agreeable during his declining years. 


THE VOW. 


35 


It was a marriage of interest — -the others were the same. 
They were unions of fortunes, nothing more. Ought 
not Olga, who has a marriage-portion of a million, to be 
ashamed of having married Bachmakof, who possesses a 
million and a half? Are there, then, no longer on the 
earth young and intelligent men, generous and disinter- 
ested girls, that every marriage should be either a trade 
or a placing of great interests ?’ 7 

“Permit me, Princess,” said the Major General, bri- 
dling up; “is wealth, in your view, a bar to feelings?” 

“That is not what I wish to say,” said Nadia, with 
some impatience, “and you well know it! When once 
such couples love, or imagine they love, let them get 
married. Mon Dieul it’s very natural, and they will do 
exceedingly well; besides, they have nothing better to 
do! But what would you have them become afterwards? 
What future is reserved for them, for those beings who 
have nothing to do in life save to amuse themselves 
wherever people indulge in amusement and grow 
weary at home, when they are alone ? As long as they 
are young, by dint of dragging themselves reciprocally 
to the ball, to the theater, to foreign lands, to Karlsbad 
or to Monaco, they pass the time as well as they can ; 
then, when they are old, they nurse their gout or their 
liver complaint. Do you imagine they love each other 
then, when they are tired of and disgusted with each 
other? Do you imagine they remember their youth, the 
time when they believed they loved each other? ” 

She shrugged her shoulders with disgust. 

“ Nadia,” said her aunt, mildly, “ all marriages are not 
like those you depict ! ” 

“ You are right, aunt ! There are those who separate, 
because life in common is intolerable to them, or because 
— But I forget that I am a well-bred damsel and that 
certain topies of conversation are forbidden to me.” 


36 


THE VOW. 


“ Nadia!” said her father, with tender reproach. 

She was on the point of speaking, when the English 
horns played a melodious phrase that made her start. 
She lifted her finger in the air. 

“Listen!” said she. 

They listened. The phrase unrolled itself with infinite 
grace and suppleness, running through the orchestra like 
a ribbon of light that glided across the instrumental 
woof; then it lost itself, as too often happens, in a noisy 
and commonplace explosion. Nadia raised her head 
that she had held lowered in order to hear the better, 
and her eyes encountered the glance of Korzof. 

“Pray, what may be your ideal of marriage, Princess? ” 
asked he, gently, but in a clear voice. 

The young girl looked at him with a sort of defiance. 

“I would like,” said she, with more force than she 
usually employed in simple society conversations, “I 
would like every human being to have an aim in life — 
let it be art, poetry, science, no matter what. I would 
like a man not to content himself with living happily and 
spending his money, the money that has come to him 
through the sweat of his peasants, or the toil of his 
ancestors, in some way or other, satisfied with giving a 
portion of it to those who have nothing. I would like * 
him to do something, to be somebody. I would like this 
to apply to the women as well as the men; the former 
cannot do it personally, according to the laws of our 
society! Well, at least let their fortunes be for them 
the means of doing good. Let each heiress summon to 
her by marriage a poor and intelligent man. By acting 
thus she will redeem her original sin — her fortune that 
puts her in advance in the ranks of the useless! ” 

A chorus of disapproval arose around Nadia. 

“Oh, Princess! You say this, but you would never 
do it ! ” cried one of the attaches of the ministry. 


THE VOW. 


87 


Nadia arose and cast a resolute glance at those who 
surrounded her. 

“I? You do not know me! Well, I swear in the 
presence of you all, who are my witnesses, that, since 
Heaven has pleased to make me rich and of high birth, 
I will wed only a man without fortune ; but by his 
merit and his talents he must have made for himself an 
honorable position. I swear it ! ” 

She stretched out her right hand toward the sky and 
the sea to call upon them to witness her oath. 

“ Nadia ! ” cried her father, stricken to the heart. 

“ I have sworn it, father I ” said the young girl ; “ but 
if the object of my choice should displease you, you are 
well aware that I would not act contrary to your wishes ; 
I would be equal to living and dying beside you without 
desiring any other happiness.” 

The music had come to a close, the crowd was dis- 
persing, and the roll of the carriages had recommenced. 
The waters had ceased to make themselves heard, and 
silence reigned beneath the tall trees. 

“Princess,” said Korzof, in a low tone, “I have some- 
thing to say to you; will you deign to accord me a 
moment’s interview? ” 

“ Whenever you please,” said Nadia, her eyes yet 
filled with a proud flame. 

Her circle of adorers escorted her to her carriage, into 
which she mounted with her aunt, while Eoubine seated 
himself beside Korzof, who had invited him to accom- 
pany him. The caleches departed, leaving the adorers a 
trifle dejected. 

“ What an extraordinary person ! ” cried the Major 
General, when Nadia had vanished. 

“Look here, General,” said the aide-de-camp, “she 
dealt in paradoxes to-night. No attention should be 
paid to them.” 


38 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


CHAPTER II. 

FEODOR STEPLINE. 

The morrow of this memorable day was, as the mor- 
rows of fetes often are, gray and sorrowful ; from dawn 
the drops of rain beat furiously against the window 
panes ; at 11 o’clock it was evident that all hope of fine 
weather was gone. 

At that moment Nadia descended from her chamber, 
situated on the second floor. She knew that her father 
liked to rise late, and she did not wish to show herself 
in the apartment down stairs before him, in order not to 
have the air of reproaching the paternal laziness by the 
spectacle of her activity. As she entered the wide 
dining-room, glazed on three sides like a greenhouse, the 
first object that attracted her attention was her father’s 
huge Turkish pipe, placed across a little table that bore 
a perfect wealth of smoker’s articles. This pipe had a 
morose and abandoned air that struck the young girl, 
and her eyes passed from the table to the Prince himself, 
who, with his forehead pressed against the window, was 
gazing at the rain-scarred landscape with extraordinary 
persistence. 

“ Father! ” said the soft voice of the young girl. 

A slight movement of the Prince’s shoulders proved 
to Nadia that he had heard her, but he remained motion- 
less. She approached him and joining her hands together 
placed them on the shoulder of the taciturn dreamer, 
leaning her chin upon them. He did not stir. Then 
she thrust forward her pleasant face until he felt the 
young girl’s downy hair touch the tip of his mustache. 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


39 


He turned his head a trifle and met Nadia’s glance, 
full of tender mischief and satire that, however, did not 
shut out respect. He wished to be severe, but that was 
impossible. 

“ Are you pouting ? ” said she, with an inflection of 
voice so comical that Roubine could not control himself. 

“ Sorceress ! ” said he, smiling. 

He kissed his daughter and allowed himself to be led 
to his fauteuil; Nadia delicately took the stem of his 
pipe, put it in his hand, lighted a roll of paper at the 
candle that was kept constantly burning on the table 
awaiting the caprices of the smoker, then she knelt before 
her father and set fire to the perfumed light-colored ori- 
ental tobacco, of which he mechanically drew a few whiffs. 
When this was done she threw herself lightly backward, 
half seated, and looked at the Prince with that mixture 
of tenderness and gentle raillery that rendered her so 
seductive. 

“ You are not pouting any longer, are you? ” said she, 
smiling. 

“ Listen, Nadia,” said her father, in a serious tone. 

She was instantly upon her feet, and her countenance 
assumed a grave and dignified expression. 

“ Listen,” continued he, “ I pass over all your caprices 
and many follies ; but you must admit that last evening 
you went beyond the limit of that I can permit.” 

She threw her head a little back, as if the weight of 
her braids were too heavy for her, and calmly awaited 
the continuation. 

“ When you solemnly call upon the stars, the whole 
world, the mighty waters, the military staff and the min- 
istries to bear witness to your intention,” resumed the 
Prince, who warmed up to his ill humor, for an instant 
cooled, as he talked, “I would like, at least, out of 
proper consideration for yourself, that that intention be 


40 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


practicable ; but in declaring that you will marry a man 
without fortune, if you show the door to all the men in 
the habit of using soap and clean linen, you certainly 
cannot design to inflict upon me in their place the water- 
carriers of the capital and the country schoolmasters?” 

The rain struck against the windows with redoubled 
violence, and the wind whirled through the air masses 
of green leaves torn from the trees of the park. Nadia 
glanced in the direction of the window and, seeing no way 
of shunning the shock, prepared herself for the battle. 
The Prince looked at her suddenly, as if to surprise upon 
her countenance some stubborn expression ; but she did 
not allow herself to be thus entrapped and remained in 
the same proud and yet respectful attitude. 

“Well, Nadia, answer ! ” cried he, at last, weary at not 
finding a pretext for another burst of anger. 

“Father,” said she, in a tender and submissive voice, 
“ I am in despair at having caused you vexation, and 
you must be vexed to have talked to me as you have 
just done. But such grave matters are involved that I 
will permit myself to present to you a few objections.” 

“ Objections ! ” cried Boubine ; “ ah, indeed ! You yes- 
terday made a declaration of principles equivalent to a 
declaration of war!” 

“Oh, father ! ” 

“Yes, a declaration of war against everything that has 
the* least good sense in it! You should, at least, have 
spfeken to me in advance about it — you should have told 
me what you wanted ! Then we might have talked the 
matter over, we might perhaps have arrived at some 
understanding! For, all things said and done, you well 
know, Nadia, that all I want in this world is your happi- 
ness!” 

The Prince’s voice broke in his throat and he stopped 
short. The young girl drew nearer to him, knelt at his 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


41 


feet as she had done an instant before, and placed both 
her elbows upon her father’s knees, clasping her hands 
with a charming gesture of repentance and prayer. 

“ My beloved father,” said she, “ I did very wrong to talk 
before strangers of matters so private and so deeply affect- 
ing our mutual happiness, for our happiness is one and the 
same thing, is it not? I should have restrained myself 
last evening, talked with you, explained to you my ideas; 
but I did not know, I assure you that I did not know 
myself what I wanted until the moment the conversation 
brought it to me like a flash of light. On hearing those 
marriages of which society approves spoken of, I felt 
such indignation — I would not marry any man at that 
price, father, and you would not have your child do so 
either, would you?” 

“But, Nadia,” said the Prince, with much good sense, 
“ all marriages are not like those! Take my marriage to 
your mother as an example; I assure you that I wedded 
her neither from lack of occupation for my idle mind, 
11 1 )t, nor to augment my 



because I loved her! 


Don’t you think that sufficient? ” 

“I have nothing to say about that,” replied the young 
girl, slightly embarrassed. “Don’t you think, father, I 
could reconcile your way of seeing with mine by marry- 
ing a man without fortune whom I could love? ” 

Roubine gave a start. Nadia arose quickly and seated 
herself in a low chair opposite her father. ^ 

“Why don’t you say at once that you are smitten with 
a poor student, and that you wish to marry him to give 
his genius wings of gold and paper money?” 

“No, father, such is not the case,” she flrmly answered, 
although she had grown very pale; “but if such were 
the case, would you see any harm in it?” 

“Certainly! Listen attentively, my child: I will put 


42 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


no obstacle in the way of tbe marriage of your choice, 
provided you bring me a well-bred son-in-law, a man of 
society, a son-in-law worthy of me and worthy of your- 
self; students may have genius, Nadia, but they have 
impossible families. Come now, be frank: would you 
consent to be the daughter-in-law of a village priest, of 
a small country grocer, or of an employd of the four- 
teenth class at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, when 
the Minister himself asked for your hand not three 
months ago?” 

Nadia listened respectfully, without the least appear- 
ance of rebellion, but with the same firmness of bearing. 

“Father,” said she, “the Minister was fifty years old, 
and for a thousand reasons that it would be superfluous 
to give you I could not love him ; consequently, I could 
not marry him. You know the respect that 1 have for 
myself; why then attribute thoughts to me that I could 
never entertain? The man who will be my husband, 
who will be your son-in-law, will be of necessity a man 
of society, educated and well-bred; otherwise how could 
I love him?” 

“You will then have a great deal of trouble to make 
your utilitarian theories accord with your personal sym- 
pathies,” said the Prince, with a sigh. 

“ In that event, I should prefer never to get married , 11 
responded the young girl, with a charming smile. 

“What a reassuring prospect to open to me!” cried 
Eoubine; “a philanthropic and humanitarian old maid 
— a regular scourge! What a future!” 

“Don’t scold any more, father; I am going to give you 
a little music.” 

She bent toward him her pretty face with so much 
cajoling grace, so much filial abandon, that, despite his 
ill-humor, he could not resist, and he kissed the fresh 
cheek offered to him. 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


43 


“No serious music,” answered he, “but if you play me 
one of Strauss’ waltzes that will perhaps change the 
course of my ideas.” 

Nadia stifled a sigh and sat down at the piano. The 
Prince folded his arms, and as long as his daughter played 
walked back and forth in the vast salon. When she had 
finished he turned toward her. 

“You don’t like that kind of music, do you?” said he, 
looking at her with a sort of uneasy tenderness. 

“Not much, my dear father.” 

“Yes, it’s useless music, is it not?” In my time they 
liked it; we admired the Italians, Bellini, Rossini; Doni- 
zetti seemed to us already complicated. You young 
folks have changed all that. The classics seem to you 
too simple; you want Schumann. As for me, I don’t 
understand anything about it. Are we growing old, or 
do you wish to go too quickly?” 

The young girl listened with clasped hands and 
lowered head; she raised her eyes to her father. 

“You are a utilitarian, are you not?” resumed the 
Prince; “another vexation. You want everything to 
serve some end, do you not? You can’t understand 
having beautiful things simply for the pleasure of having 
them; you wear marvelous dresses because that gives 
work to the seamstresses, and you pick roses worth five 
roubles apiece because that affords the gardeners a living. 
You have explained all this to me; but, Nadia, as for 
me, I love your dresses because they make you more 
beautiful, and I love the roses because they smell good. 
That, however, is not sufficient for you, is it?” 

“You are the best of men and the most adorable of 
fathers,” responded she, smiling upon him; “nothing 
more is exacted from you. You have filled your task 
upon the earth in being a brave officer, a good father of 
a family and one of the most indulgent landed proprietors. 


44 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


You have the right to love the roses for themselves, my 
dresses because they are well-suited to me, and the 
waltzes because they recall to you happy recollections, or 
because they gently rock your reveries without your 
having need of fatiguing your brain to comprehend them. 
Be indulgent for your indocile child, father, for she loves 
you more than anything in this world!” 

Peace was established; the Prince did not feel in con- 
dition to struggle any longer that day; nothing was 
more distasteful to his good nature than a tone of repri- 
mand, and the sense of his paternal duty alone could put 
him in the humor of scolding. # Happy at being able to 
put aside the disagreeable ideas which had haunted him 
since the preceding evening, he abandoned himself to the 
pleasure of listening to his daughter, who for an hour 
played for him a complete collection of Italian composi- 
tions. 

The rain was still falling; Nadia, fatigued, had quitted 
the piano and gone to the window to read the newspaper, 
when the door opened and a servant, approaching the 
young girl, spoke a few words to her in a low voice. 

“What’s the matter?” demanded the Prince, turning 
around. ^ 

“Nothing, father. The superintendent has sent his 
son with the accounts for the first six months of the 
year.” 

“ Why didn’t he come himself? ” 

“He is sick, it appears. Will you receive the son, or 
do you prefer that I should spare you the trouble?” 

“Attend to the matter for me,” said Roubine, with a 
faint smile, “ since you like to make yourself useful — and 
since, after all, you are my minister of finance.” 

Nadia sent him a kiss with the tips of her fingers and 
left the dining-room. The Prince then took up the 
abandoned journal and began to read ; but his courage 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


45 


soon quitted him ; he laid down his pipe and fell into a 
peaceful slumber over the foreign news dispatches. 

The superintendent’s son was a fine-looking young 
man of twenty- four, of a somewhat heavy build, that 
would become still heavier with age; but for the 
moment his hair and beard of a dark golden hue and his 
wide open blue eyes gave to his physiognomy a certain 
charm that would have hidden from an attentive observer 
a tricky expression that appeared from time to time in 
his glance, so frank in appearance He was standing 
in the vast apartment that served as an ante-chamber, 
e the young Princess, whose 



according to the Russian 


custom. 

“Well, Feodor,” said she, “is everything getting on 
right in the country ? ” 

“Yes, Princess, with the help of God,” responded the 
young man, smiling in such a way as to exhibit his 
handsome white teeth. 

“Come this way,” said Nadia, entering her father’s 
study, a large room already darkened by thick, somber 
curtains, through which the dull light of the rainy day 
barely penetrated. 

She seated herself before the huge oaken desk and 
pointed out a seat near her to the young man, who 
remained standing yet an instant. 

" TT 1 ~ ight your papers ? ” asked she. 



“ Well, sit down then and show them to me.” 

With a gesture that expressed at once his appreciation 
of the honor which was done him and a certain familiar 
ease, Feodor Stepline took the chair designated, and drew 
from a voluminous napkin a bundle of papers that the 
Princess examined minutely one by one, the while taking 
care to enter the figures they represented in a special 


46 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


note-book. When the bundle was completely scruti- 
nized, Nadia added up the figures she had entered and 
verified the total several times. 

While she was thus engaged the eyes of the young 
man observed her attentively, with expressions occasion- 
ally very diverse. Sometimes they arrested themselves 
with admiration upon her heavy tresses, upon her white 
neck bent over the paper, upon her slender fingers loaded 
with sparkling rings; then they strayed over the sums 
entered in the note-book, when they shone with a somber 
and almost wicked luster. When Nadia had finished 
her calculations, she raised her head and turned her face 
toward Stepline. 

“ Total : thirty-seven thousand six hundred roubles,” 
said she. 

“Exactly, Princess,” answered Feodor, resuming an 
official air. “ Here they are.” 

He drew from a wallet several packages of bank notes 
and passed them one by one to the young girl, who veri- 
fied them carefully, putting them aside in a drawer as 
she did so. When the last had rejoined the others, she 
closed the drawer, put the key in her pocket, turned her 
fauteuil a trifle toward Stepline and said to him with 
great gentleness : 

“ Now, tell me a little about our village.” 

“Everything is getting along there as well as you 
could wish, Princess,” said he. “ Your school is full of 
children. The teacher went away a week ago but the 
classes continue, nevertheless.” 

“ W ent away ? Why ? ” 

“ He got tired of it, I think,” said Feodor, lowering 
his eyes. “ For a long time he neglected his duties.” 

“Why was I not written to about it?” said Nadia, 
with animation. “ The classes should not have suffered 
on account of his negligence.” 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


47 


“ They did not suffer on account of it,” responded the 
young man, still with the same air of modesty. 

“ Who, then, supplied the master’s place ? ” 

“I. Excuse me, your Highness, if I have run the 
risk of displeasing you,” continued he, with redoubled 
humility. “ But I knew that your heart was firmly set 
on that school, and I replaced the master every time he 
failed to appear.” 

Nadia was on the point of thanking him warmly ; she 
was looking at him and had opened her mouth to speak, 
when suddenly she checked her enthusiasm, fixed her 
eyes upon him with a certain persistence and said, in a 
calm tone : 

“ I ain obliged to you.” 

Stepline had not noticed this change; he resumed in 
the same agitated tone : 

“ Everybody in the country is penetrated by the kind- 
ness of our Princess. The effects of a generous initiative 
are sometimes very diverse and very unexpected. On 
seeing the pains the Princess takes, more than one who 
had thought only of living honestly in the fulfilment of 
his duty has comprehended that that was not sufficient 
and has applied himself to other studies. The little 
hospital is too small and my father is no longer equal to 
the demands of the sick; the trifling knowledge of 
medicine he possesses, that which our Princess has been 
kind enough to communicate to him, is no longer up to 
the needs. We should have a young physician, a health 
officer at least.” 

“ Who will devote himself sufficiently to the cause of 
those who suffer to bury himself in a country village 
without intellectual delations, without amusements?” 

“I thought,” resumed Stepline in the same restrained 
and, so to speak, stifled voice, “that if our Princess 
deigned to encourage me — ” 


48 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


“Well?” said Nadia, somewhat curious. 

“I would willingly make the necessary studies. They 
are not, after all, either very long or very difficult, and 
then — ” 

“You would consecrate your life to our little hos- 
pital?” demanded the young girl, a trifle troubled by 
this unexpected proposition. 

Stepline looked at her. 

“ Certainly,” said he. 

“I believed you ambitious.” 

A strange gleam shone in the young man’s eyes. 

. “My highest ambition has never ceased to be a simple 
wish: to render myself worthy of the bounties of our 
benevolent Princess, to merit a trifle of her esteem — a 
little of that affection she showers down like rays of 
sunlight over all who approach her.” 

Nadia lowered her eyes in her turn and bit her lips. 

“It is not, then, solely the ambition to do good that 
urges you into this path?” said she, without displaying 
emotion. 

Stepline assumed new assurance. 

“You have taught and repeated to us, Princess,” said 
he, “and your teachings have not fallen upon sterile 
ground, that man is the son of his works, and that there 
is no situation a truly resolute and intelligent man cannot 
reach. You have cited to us numerous examples from 
the history of every country, adding that if these things 
did not take place so frequently in Russia it was because 
of the inequality of conditions, but that little by little 
these distances would be effaced.' Your father has seen 
fit to give mine his liberty. I am a free man. Why, 
then, Princess, can I not aspire to those destinies that 
you have given me a glimpse of? ” 

“You speak well,” said Nadia. “You have received 
a good education.” 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


49 


“ My father has spared nothing to have me properly 
instructed,” responded Feodor. “He scarcely knows 
how to read himself, but he caused the priest of our 
church to teach me all he could. For the rest I spent 
two years at the University of Moscow.” 

“And you would resign yourself to consecrate your 
existence to the poor wretches of the village ? ” 
demanded the young girl still incredulous. 

“ For you what would one not do ? ” said he, in a low 
voice. 

Nadia arose gently and took the bundles of papers in 
both her hands. 

“I will speak about it to my father,” said she. “ It is 
for him to judge of such matters.” 

“If you would only speak in my favor,” insisted the 
young man. 

“ It is the Prince’s affair,” repeated Nadia. “ When 
do you set out on your return? ” 

“Whenever you so direct,” answered Stepline, in a 
submissive tone. 

“At once, then,” said the young girl, in a calm voice. 

“Without seeing you again? ” 

She fixed upon him the glance of her beautiful, proud 
and tranquil eyes. 

“We have finished our business,” said she; “I have - 
no further time to give you. You will be written to as 
regards the demand you have just made.” 

“And when will our Princess deign to visit her 
lands?” 

“In about three weeks; but you will have my father’s 
answer long before that.” 

Stepline, who had arisen, remained standing in a 
humiliated attitude. 

“You will say to the children of our school that I am 
pleased with their good conduct. I thank you once 
3 


50 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


again for haying taken care of them. We will send a 
new schoolmaster in a short time. Meanwhile, I beg 
you to be kind enough to continue to teach the pupils.’ 7 

She spoke with perfect urbanity, but without the least 
abandon. Feodor Stepline felt that he had lost a heavy 
game, and still he was unconscious of having played 
unskillfully. 

“ Au revoir,” said Nadia, dismissing him with a move- 
ment of her hand. 

She left the study and he followed her with a dejected 
air. She entered the dining-room, the door of which 
closed upon her, and he immediately quitted the house. 

“What has that greenhorn been telling you?” asked 
the Prince in French, awakening from his refreshing 
slumber. 

“He has been telling me your fortune,” said Nadia, 
smiling. “We are rich, father; the return from our 
lands on the Volga alone for the past six months 
amounts to more than thirty-seven thousand roubles.” 

“Well, so much the better,” said Roubine, stifling a 
yawn. “You can buy yourself another carriage; you 
wanted a little two-pony panier we saw the other day, 
Shall I send for it? I will present it to you.” 

“No, thank you, father,” answered the young girl, in a 
pensive tone. “Perhaps I will ask you for something 
else.” 

“Do what you like. Say, Nadia, is it going to rain in 
this style all day?” continued Roubine, in a tone so 
piteous that she could not help laughing. 

“I fear, my beloved father, that even with thirty-seven 
thousand roubles in your drawer you will find it impos- 
sible to prevent that!” 

“Well, at least, send to Korzofs and invite him to 
dinner. This rain is overwhelming I don’t know what 
to do with myself ! ” 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


51 


Without making any objection, Nadia caused her 
father’s order to be executed. The messenger returned 
in a short time with the intelligence that Korzof had 
accepted the invitation and would be present himself at 
five o’clock, which appeared to satisfy Eoubine and 
restored him his good humor. 

“Father,” said the young girl, “what sort of a man is 
Feodor Stepline?” 

“ An intelligent fellow ; his father is an old rascal, but 
I’d rather keep him as superintendent than take another 
who would rob me all the same; at least I am accus- 
tomed to his manner of stealing; another would have a 
different plan.” 

A thousand fugitive impressions passed across Nadia’s 
countenance while her father was speaking; when he 
had finished she remained silent for an instant. 

“But,” said she, hesitatingly, “his son knows nothing 
of this?” 

“Feodor? It is he who keeps the accounts! His 
father is very good at addition, and particularly so at 
subtraction! Ilis success is convincing proof, since I 
have never caught him in flagrante delicto; but he is 
ignorant of the commonest elements of orthography, 
and it is the younger Stepline who draws up the hand- 
some memoranda such as you brought me; for the sake 
of perfect regularity, a writing clerk copies them in the 
account books? You know our beautiful account 
books? They are well enough kept, I assure youl” 

Eoubine laughed heartily; the thought that in ex- 
change for the eight or ten thousand roubles that he 
stole from him annually his superintendent offered for 
his inspection such beautiful account books seemed to 
him very comical. 

Nadia did not laugh. 

“That young man his father’s accomplice!” said she 


52 


FEODOR stepline. 


at last. “That passes my comprehension ! How can I 
reconcile ” 

“Reconcile what?” demanded the Prince, for he loved 
to tease her. 

In a few words the young girl informed her father of 
Feodor’s ambitions. 

“He told you that?” said Roubine, who had grown 
grave. “ In what terms ? ” 

Nadia strove to recall the young man’s exact words. 
Suddenly a glowing blush invaded her countenance and 
she stopped short. 

“No matter,” said she; “evidently he is a vulgar 
aspirant.” 

Her father looked at her with a certain uneasiness. 
He lifted a finger in the air. 

“Take care, my daughter 1” said he. “With your 
ideas of the leveling of classes, you may cause to be 
born in disordered brains thoughts that you have never 
wished to communicate to them. That imbecile was not 
lacking in respect toward you, I hope, that I see you so 
discomfited ?” 

“No, father, not the least in the world,” responded the 
young girl, deeply mortified at the remembrance cf 
Feodor’s words, “For you, what would one not do?” 
“What answer will you send him?” 

“ Oh ! that’s very simple: that my sick people have not 
the time to wait until he shall have finished his studies, 
and that we are seeking a health officer ready made.” 

Nadia kissed her father. The door opened and 
Korzof entered. 

“ It rained so,” said he, excusing himself for coming so 
early, “ and the day appeared so long to me that I have 
come at the risk of being in the way.” 

“No! no!” cried Roubine, enchanted. “We will 
play whist with a dummy while waiting for dinner. 


FEODOR STEPLINE. 


53 


Cards are the best things yet to kill a day that will 
not die.” 

The table was soon ready for operations, and the three 
players gravely seated themselves around it as if it had 
been an altar prepared for some sacrifice. With the 
advent of Korzof an influence of joy and comfort 
seemed to have spread itself throughout the apartment. 
They played thus until the dinner hour, chatting about a 
thousand things. 

Toward seven o’clock a clear spot was seen in the 
gray sky, a yellow band showed itself in the Occident. 

“A miracle — it has stopped raining l” cried Roubine, 
opening the door of the terrace. 

An agreeable odor of damp verdure made its way 
into the dining-room, and the three friends risked going 
out into the open air. Vapor ascended from everywhere 
in a light mist through which the darker points, repre- 
senting buildings or masses of trees, were dimly visible. 
A little sunshine appeared, illuminating with a melan- 
choly joy the bushes yet bending beneath the weight of 
the rain. 

“ Ah ! now I live once more ! ” cried Roubine, taking 
the stiffness out of his legs by rapid walking. 

Nadia had remained upon the threshold in order not 
to wet her little shoes. Korzof approached her. 

“ Should it be clear, mademoiselle,” said he, “ will you 
not take a walk to morrow among the flower-beds ? ” 

She made a sign of approbation. 

“ Will you permit me to meet you there? ” 

She repeated the same sign. 

“ I thank you,” said Korzof, with much dignity. 

She comprehended that he was in every sense a man ; 
he knew the price of what he asked and felt himself 
worthy of obtaining it. She quitted the door of the 
terrace and went into the salon, where she seated herself 


54 


korzof’s declaration. 


at the piano. Her fingers strayed carelessly over the 
keys until the moment the two men rejoined her. 

What with music and conversation they passed a 
delicious evening. 


-:o:- 


CHAPTER III. 
korzof’s declaration. 

A cool and joyous breeze made the leaves of the tall 
lindens quiver and scattered over the avenues a cloud of 
winged and odorous flowers that flew far away through 
the parterres. Nadia seated herself on a bench at the 
extremity of the gardens, at the spot where they rejoined 
the alleys cut off by the copses, and remained thoughtful 
for an instant, her hands half- wrapped about her knees. 

She was alone ; her lady companion had asked her for 
an hour’s leave of absence and the young girl had 
accorded it, seeing in this freak of chance a providential 
design. It was, therefore, a veritable tete-a-tete she was 
about to grant Dmitri Korzof, for the rare passers-by 
were not witnesses and the society of Peterhof at that 
scorching hour of the day was reposing beneath the 
shelter of cotton duck pavilions in the gardens of the 
villas. 

Nadia had scarcely had time to think what she should 
say, when Korzof made his appearance at the end of the 
avenue. He was walking rapidly; on perceiving her he 
slackened his pace and approached with a calm air; but 
his serious, almost rigid countenance betrayed the effort 
he was making to preserve his apparent tranquillity. 


rorzof’s declaration. 


55 


“ I thank you for haying come, mademoiselle,” said he, 
after bowing to her. “ You have understood that a 
matter very grave for me was to be considered — in a 
word, you hold the happiness of my life in your hands.” 

Nadia nodded her head, without looking at him. 
While listening to him she had felt in the depths of her 
soul a strange and solemn emotion, like the grave music 
of an organ in a lofty cathedral : it was sad, even painful, 
and yet mingled with a serious, almost holy joy. 

“ I have loved you for a long time, Princess,” continued 
Korzof, growing paler and paler. “ I have striven to 
conquer the feeling — it seemed to me that you were not 
disposed to encourage it; thenceforward why expose 
myself to useless chagrin ? I have struggled vainly. I 
am not the stronger. If you consent to be my wife I 
shall be happy all my days, and will try to be good , if 
you decline — ” 

His voice failed him. He raised his eyes to the young 
girl, and his glance finished the phrase he had com- 
menced. 

In her turn, Nadia looked at him ; he saw upon her 
face something indicative of trembling and indecision, of 
tenderness and sorrow, that suddenly restored him his 
courage. 

“ Do you consent ? ” asked he, in a low voice, seating 
himself beside her. 

The young girl recovered her self-control. 

“Something very strange,” said she, “has passed 
through my mind. While I heard you speaking, it 
seemed to me that I ought to answer you yes — I had 
the impression that we would be happy together, and 
then — ” 

“ Then what ? ” anxiously demanded Korzof. 

“And then I said to myself that our ideas and our 
ways of looking at life are not the same, and that it is a 


56 


korzof’s declaration. 


perfect communion of views tliat is the true basis of 
happiness.” 

“ And love, do you count that as nothing ? ” said the 
young man, almost smiling. 

Nadia proudly threw back her head, with a movement 
that was familiar to him. 

“ Love wears out,” said she ; “ the communion of 
minds never does.” 

“But our ideas are the same, dear Princess’” cried 
Korzof, emboldened. “We both desire the happiness of 
those who surround us; is not that true? It is only 
necessary to have an understanding as to the means. 
That will not be difficult to accomplish. Besides, I 
want whatever you like.” 

He spoke with a communicative warmth. Nadia 
smiled in her turn, then suddenly grew grave again. 

“ I have made a vow,” said she, while her pretty face 
darkened. 

“ A rash, impracticable vow ! Who has not taken 
similar oaths ? ” 

“1!” resumed Nadia; “I have never taken an oath 
that I was not resolved to keep — this as well as the 
rest ! ” 

But, after having gained so much ground, Korzof was 
not disposed to lose it. He decided to stoutly defend 
that which she would take back from him. 

“ What would you exact of your husband, Princess? ” 
said he, in a pleasant tone. “ That he be well-bred in 
the first place ; is not that so? ” 

Nadia made an affirmative sign. 

“ Honest ? — with a spotless life ? — educated ? It 
seems to me that, without too much self-conceit, I can 
pride myself on combining these advantages. What 
more is wanted? That he devote himself to some grand 
idea? Show me the way. I will follow you. In the 


korzof’s declaration. 


57 


path of good as well as elsewhere, you shall he my 
guiding star.” 

A new emotion, tenderer and more delicious still, 
invaded the young girl’s heart. 

This man was truly the being destined for her by 
Heaven. Who else would ever have used such lan- 
guage? But the importunate remembrance of the vow 
troubled her immediately and destroyed all her joy. 

“ You are rich! ” said she, slowly and regretfully. 

There was silence between them ■ the breeze whistled 
gayly amid the foliage, and they heard at irregular 
intervals the sound of a drop of water falling into some 
invisible reservoir. 

‘‘But, Princess,” said Korzof at last, “it is because I 
am rich that I am the man you know. It is precisely 
that fortune that has given me the means of acquiring 
the instruction and the generous ideas that I am striving 
to develop in myself Poor and obliged to struggle, who 
knows if I would have thought of the lot of my kind?” 

“Fortune may be a means, it ought not to be an end,” 
responded Nadia. 

“But I do not seek to enrich myself! Quite the con- 
trary! I have spent a great deal of money on things 
that have procured me only intellectual or moral enjoy- 
ments!” 

“That is not enough,” interrupted the young girl, 
quickly. “It is simply selfishness. One must work for 
others.” 

Korzof did not respond. After an instant he resumed, 
sadly: 

“You think a great deal about others, Princess, and 
about me not at all. I fear that I have not succeeded in 
inspiring in you the slightest sympathy.” 

With a spontaneous movement Nadia offered him her 
hand. 


58 


korzof’s declaration. 


“AIl! do not believe that,” said sbe. 

She blushed instantly and withdrew her hand. Scald- 
ing tears arose to her eyes, and for the first time in her 
life she saw that she might be deceived. 

“What do you want of me, then?” said Korzof, 
greatly affected. 

Both of them were overcome as if after some violent 
physical effort The difficulty they found in coming to 
an understanding weighed upon them like a mountain. 

“I would like,” said Nadia, suddenly, “I would like 
that you should not be rich. I comprehend that you 
could not resign yourself to strip yourself of a fortune 
that serves you only as a means of doing noble actions; 
and, as for me, I have sworn to wed a man without 
fortune.” 

“It was a rash vow,” said Korzof, gently. 

“ That may be,” answered she, turning away her face 
covered with crimson; “but the vow exists; I cannot 
retract it.” 

“ If I gave my fortune to the poor would you marry 
me?” cried the young man, taking both her hands. 

She was strongly tempted to answer yes, but another 
thought arrested her. 

“ What would you do without your fortune? ” said she. 
“How would you employ your leisure as an idle man 
without any special vocation? You should know that I 
cannot have the idea of marrying an absolutely poor 
man! What I should like is that he gain with his own 
hands his means of existence — in a word, that he should 
be a toiler. That is what you cannot be!” 

“Then,” resumed Korzof, in a husky voice, “you will 
not marry me. You will cast your beauty, your refined 
tastes, your generous aspirations into the hands of another, 
who will have for you neither my ardent tenderness, my 
passionate respect, npr my unshakable resolution to act 


KORZOF’S DECLARATION. 


59 


always for tne best in this world of struggles and diffi- 
culties. He will have no more to bring you than myself, 
he will even be devoid of my long cherished desire to 
become worthy of you; but, as he had the good luck to 
be born poor, he will be the chosen one, and I, miserable 
and sorrowing, will go to the other end of the world to 
console myself by expending my fortune in useful works 
for which you will not have the slightest appreciation of 
me. Come, now, to please you, what must I do? Must 
I become a mason, a locksmith? No? A professor?” 

“No,” said Nadia, undecided. “I don’t know what I 
want.” 

“But you know what you don’t want! You don't 
want me!” 

For an instant, wounded by Korzof 's bitterness of tone, 
she was on the point of harshly answering him with a 
definitive no; but she realized that he was suffering, and 
restrained that cruel word. 

“Beflect,” said she, gently; “do me at least the justice 
to admit that I am acting in good faith, that I took my 
oath under the impulsion of a loyal and sincere feeling.” 

“Ah! my dear blind girl,” said Korzof, sadly, “those 
with the greatest souls commit the most fatal errors!” 

“In that case they are hurtful only to themselves,” 
returned the young girl, rising. 

“You forget that I love you, and that you are causing 
me a great deal of trouble.” 

She hesitated an instant, then lifted to the young man 
a frank and pure look. 

“If you were poor,” said she, “if you were one of those 
who toil for the grandeur of the country or of human- 
ity — ” 

“Do you want me to resume the military service?” 
asked Korzof, retaining her with a gesture. 

“No; Bussia does not lack officers.” 


60 


korzof’s declaration. 


“Then yon refuse?” 

“I have sworn,” said she, turning away. 

He saw that it was with regret. 

“Princess,” added he, in a low voice. 

“What do you wish?” 

“Give me your hand, in good friendship, at least.” 

Without raising her eyes, she presented him her supple 
and slender hand, which he clasped warmly. She quitted 
him immediately, without a word, without a look behind. 

In the middle of the flower garden Nadia met her 
lady companion, who was searching for her; together they 
walked in the direction of the villa, while Korzof, motion- 
less in the same place, followed them with his eyes, 
deeply meditating. 

Two days elapsed. The Prince manifested a little ill 
humor from time to time. The fine weather continued 
with an engaging serenity. Hosts of visitors were 
received daily, either in the grand salon or upon the 
terrace; at every moment the piano resounded beneath 
the hand of Nadia or that of some other young girl ; but 
the Princess herself, while fulfilling her duties of hospi- 
tality with the serene grace that distinguished her, could 
not shake off a gravity more pronounced than usual. It 
was this serious air, accompanied by long periods of 
silence, that weighed upon Eoubine and gave him fits of 
impatience. 

“Invite company, Nadia,” said he, one day, in an im- 
perious tone. “We must have some amusement here, 
we must have dancing to-morrow evening. This house 
is becoming as gloomy as a night-cap. If you intend to 
be a nun, that’s no reason for me to take the veil. I 
haven’t made any vow ! ” 

He spoke in a jeering tone that he wished to render 
pleasant, but bitterness pervaded it. His daughter 
looked at him with eyes full of reproach that he feigned 
not to see. 


korzof’s declaration. 


61 


“Whom are you going to invite? ¥e must have 
dancing. I want a little noise and gayety, the deuce 
take me if I don’t 1 ” 

Nadia seated herself at her little desk and took from 
her drawer some vellum cards, upon each of which she 
wrote a few words. Without saying anything, her 
father seated himself opposite to her and wrote the 
addresses. When about twenty cards were ready, Rou- 
bine rang and handed them to a footman who appeared. 

“ Have you invited Korzof ? ” asked the Prince, turn-, 
ing toward his daughter. 

“ I forgot,” answered she, blushing. 

“All right; I am going to his house; I will invite 
him myself.” 

He took his hat and went out. Left alone, Nadia 
leaned her head upon her hand and began to reflect. 
After an instant, she saw a sparkling drop fall upon the 
paper before her, put her hand to her eyes and noticed 
that she was weeping. 

What was the good of haughtiness, pnde, dignity, the 
sacredness of oaths, if she could not prevent herself 
from weeping ? It was in vam she strove to stanch with 
her handkerchief the tears that obstinately arose to her 
eyes — she wept notwithstanding, as one weeps when one 
has contained one’s self too long. Seeing that she could 
not stop the strange effusion of an unnamed, almost un- 
known chagrin, she went up to her chamber and threw 
herself in her reclining-chair to try to calm herself. 

When her father returned he found her paler than 
usual, but smiling and gentle. Ashamed of the some- 
what rude way in which he had spoken to her, he kissed 
her tenderly and began to give her an account of Ins 
peregrinations. 

“ I was at Lapontine’s ; excellent cigars ; a very 
wearisome young man, but so good-hearted! In love 


62 


korzof’s declaration. 


with you, Nadia. Would you marry him? No? 
That’s right. Such a son-in-law would make me die of 
Afterwards to Norof’s. Too amu- 



knows an anecdote about every- 


body ; but, according to him, society is no longer any- 
thing but a den of brigands. I found Lesghief there. 
They all three will come. I went to Korzof’s ; did not 
find Korzof. His valet de chambre told me he had been 
at St. Petersburg the past two days. lie will return this 
evening or to-morrow morning. I have sent him a 
telegram. He must be on hand ; there is no good com- 
pany without him.” 

lie glanced stealthily at his daughter’s face that had 
suddenly assumed an anxious look. 

“ Have you received any answers ? ” resumed he. 

“Yes; everybody is coming.” 

“ Splendid ! Try to make it nice.” 

“ It shall be nice, father ; have no uneasiness about 


that.” 


The evening of the next day, at half-past eight o’clock, 
Nadia came down into the grand salon, all ready to 
receive her guests. As she had promised, it was “ nice,” 
and Roubine, enchanted, immediately expressed his satis- 
faction to her. 

Long garlands hung along the walls, like columns of 
verdure. At the top of each was a crown of brilliant 
flowers; in the corners were immense sheaves of plants 
of a shining and dark green, and everywhere, placed 
very high, were tall candelabra, loaded with candles that 
burned like torches in the tranquil air. The terrace, com- 
pletely shut in by curtains of cotton duck, was decorated 
in similar style ; in an angle a vast buffet, packed with 
glass and silverware, shone like a relic shrine, and tables 
covered with refreshments glittered all around. 

Nadia stood at the entrance of the salon to receive 


korzof’s declaration. 


63 


her guests, who were already arriving in groups. It is 
only in these imperial summer resorts of Russia that in 
forty-eight hours one can gather together sixty or eighty 
guests chosen from among those society considers the 
most elegant. She received with a most perfect grace, 
smiling upon the very young girls with an almost 
maternal benevolence, showing to the aged mammas a 
filial deference, finding for each one an amiable word, a 
service appropriate to him or her who was the object 
of it. 

They were already dancing in the grand salon; on the 
veranda the mammas and the old generals were playing 
cards, divided up among the numerous tables, each 
lighted with two candles, which gave the terrace a 
strange and amusing aspect. Nadia danced the first 
waltz with one of her most eager adorers, then urging as 
a pretext her duties as mistress of the house, she left the 
other dances to be organized among her guests who were 
acquainted with each other and returned to the first 
salon, where, suddenly stricken with a lassitude as yet 
unknown, she seated herself upon a sofa beside two old 
ladies who talked but little; after having exchanged two 
or three words with her neighbors she was at last able to 
remain silent for a moment. 

“Why am I thus sad?” she asked herself. “How is 
it that life weighs upon me in this manner? It seems 
to me that I am bearing upon my shoulders the weight 
of a crime, and yet I have done no evil!” 

She was plunged in her meditations, surprised to find 
herself growing more and more sad and discouraged, 
when the handsome aide-de-camp bowed before her, 
causing his spurs to rattle as he made an irreproachable 
salute. 

“This is the quadrille you promised to dance with me, 
Princess,” said he, smiling with the most amiable air. 


64 


korzof’s declaration. 


“Already!” Nadia almost said. 

She restrained herself and accepted the arm that was 
rounded out before her. The contra- dance seemed to 
her interminable ; the verbiage of her cavalier filled her 
ears with a confused noise; she answered as best she 
could and, as the handsome officer heard only himself, he 
was not exacting in regard to the appropriateness of her 
replies. Everything has a term, however, even the 
contra-dances that lengthen the cotillon figures; after 
about half an hour, Nadia, delivered from her compan- 
ion, heard a clock strike eleven. 

“ He will not come 1 ” said she to herself, astonished 
at feeling herself more miserable and more isolated 
amid this brilliant society than ever she had been before. 

She suddenly raised her eyes, and upon the threshold 
of the door saw Dmitri Korzof, who had just entered. 

A puff of fresh air and joy seemed to penetrate to 
her; to a word that a lady friend cast at her as she 
passed she replied with a joke that made all who heard 
it laugh until the tears came ; then involuntarily she took 
a step toward the door. Dmitri Korzof advanced 
toward her with tranquil countenance, but with a secret 
joy in his look. He offered her his hand ; she rapidly 
placed her gloved fingers upon it and immediately with- 
drew them ; but in that passing clasp she had felt some- 
thing expressive of confidence and happiness that did 
not give the lie to the sound of the young man’s voice. 

“You are amusing yourselves here,” said he. 

“ Yes, as you see. We missed you.” 

“ I arrived from St. Petersburg but an instant ago.” 

Boubine passed behind them. 

“You were unable to come in time for dinner, eh?” 
said he, in a pleasantly comical tone. 

“Yes, Prince; it was impossible. I regretted it, I 
assure you.” 


korzof’s declaration. 


65 


He had not, however, the air of regretting what had 
kept him, so Nadia thought, and suddenly a sort of 
strange and unreasonable jealousy took possession of her. 

“ He has a very contented air for a man who has been 
refused my hand,” thought she. 

An insurmountable desire to weep seized upon her 
and she wished to flee; but the orchestra played a 
waltz ; Korzof bowed before her, passed an arm around 
her waist, and they commenced to waltz amid a whirl of 
floating trains. At the second turn she made a move- 
ment indicating that she desired to rest, and he led her 
to a little sofa, placed between two doors, in a spot com- 
paratively tranquil. She seated herself and he remained 
standing in front of her. 

“ I did not lose my time at St- Petersburg,” said he, 
smiling. 

u Indeed ? ” exclaimed she, with an air of doubt. 

“I will tell you all about it to-morrow: no, to morrow 
you will be too much fatigued to hear me ; but the day 
after shall be the time, if you will.” 

“So be it I ” said she, with a nod of her head. 

Though she was not aware of it, the joyous animation 
of Korzof had begun to be communicated to her and she 
repented of her ridiculous suspicion of a short time 
before. 

“ What do you say to a trip in the yacht to vary your 
pleasures a little ? ” continued he, playing with the young 
girl’s fan, that she had allowed him to take. 

“ Why not ? But where shall we go? ” 

Roubine had stopped before them, and was looking at 
them with satisfaction. 

“ Where ? ” said he. “ To our house ! — to our country 
place of Spask. It is just on the edge of the Neva, near 
Lake Ladoga ; to go there from here in a carriage is an 
almost interminable journey; in a steam yacht it will 
4 


66 


korzof’s declaration. 


be delicious; it is the affair of less than a day. Eh! 
Nadia?” 

“ Certainly, father.” 

“ Then it’s settled ; when shall we start ? ” 

“Day after to-morrow morning at ten o’clock; does 
that suit you ? ” 

“ It’s understood ; you will be ready, Nadia ? ” 

“ Am I not always ready ? ” demanded she, with her 
pretty, gay smile, that reappeared upon her face for the 
first time in several days. 

The fete continued, more and more brilliant ; Korzof 
seemed as happy as if nothing had occurred to oppose his 
projects. Drawn on by that charming gayety, Nadia 
gave way to a sort of mysterious joy that gently pene- 
trated to her soul. 

“ What is the good,” said she to herself, “ of demanding 
of destiny more than it can give you ? To-day has its 
part, we will see what to-morrow will bring ! ” 

To-morrow brought nothing at all; the day passed, 
like all the rest, in a multitude of small preparations for 
the approaching voyage that was to last several days, for 
Roubme was firmly resolved not to be disturbed for 
nothing, and to examine his property from bottom to 
top. Toward evening Korzof sent to ask if the project 
still held good, and received through his valet de cliambre 
an affirmative response. 

At ten o’clock precisely Nadia and her father appeared 
at the landing where the handsome yacht was moored. 
Korzof was upon the deck, ready to receive them ; they 
crossed the plank that was immediately withdrawn, and 
at once the graceful vessel started toward St. Petersburg, 
leaving behind it the reflection of the marvelous shades 
of Peterhof to confound itself in the foamy wake. 

The day was splendid ; an awning of unbleached 
canvas shaded the stern; the travelers remained upon 


korzof’s declaration. 


67 


the deck to admire at their ease the villas that were 
unrolled along the river. Behind them, on their left, the 
heavy granite mass of Cronstadt seemed to plunge itself 
into the sea like an enormous monitor, surmounted by 
several turrets ; the masts of the vessels sheltered in the 
harbor rose upwards, slender and elegant. All this was 
soon lost in the distance, replaced by the verdant isles 
of the Neva, where the members of the St. Petersburg 
society, who did not wish to expose themselves to a long 
and fatiguing journey to reach their lands, during the 
summer, hired for a season stately country houses. Pal- 
aces belonging either to members of the Imperial family 
or to rich private individuals arose amid the verdure, 
and the numerous arms of the immense river disappeared 
and reappeared across the sinuosities like little lakes of 
silver. The water was blue, sown with brilliant spangles ; 
the sand of the shore was yellow and golden ; sometimes 
they discovered a corner of solitude that seemed unex- 
plored ; sometimes a mass of somber fir trees evoked the 
idea of climates always frozen ; but an instant after, the 
fresh coloring of the lindens and the delicate birch trees 
came to rest the eyes. 

St. Petersburg suddenly disengaged its gilded domes 
from this ocean of verdure, and appeared fully armed, 
like Minerva springing from the brain of Jupiter. The 
enormous dome of the Cathedral of Isaac towered above 
the varied assemblage of palaces and belfries, while the 
two rival bonnets of the fortress and the Admiralty 
loomed up against the sky like a couple of golden 
needles. The yacht passed amid the gay tumult of the 
naval dispatch boats and of the agile barks painted light 
green, with huge eyes, that simulate in front the head of 
a fish, barks solid in reality, frail in appearance, that 
replace at St. Petersburg the too rare bridges. 

Upon both shores the public buildings succeeded each 


68 


korzof’s declaration. 


other ; to the left, after the fortress, the dark mass of the 
Alexander Park, then the little wooden house that Peter 
the Great inhabited while the growing city was rising 
beneath his eyes, then the interminable, colonnades of 
the Academy of Medicine and of the School of Artillery, 
surmounted in the transparent air by the chimneys of 
the manufactories that stud this shore. To the right, 
ascending the course of the river, were the sumptuous 
palaces that, continuing the line of the Winter Palace 
and of the Hermitage, make of this quay one of the 
most curious spectacles in the civilized world. Then 
more palaces of marble and stone; then the Summer 
Garden, surrounded by ca 1 Jl "tees and, in 



the background, above 


domes of 


diverse colors : some gilded like cuirasses, others of pew- 
ter as brilliant as silver, others blue or green, sown with 
stars, all of strange and capricious forms, all peopled 
with bells, the clanging of which made the ground 
tremble on the approach of the grand fetes. 

The river had narrowed a little ; to the left the houses 
had grown less frequent, the gardens had come to bathe 
the trunks of their trees in the water that flowed more 
noisily and more rapidly ; the Convent of Smolna raised 
to the right of the travelers its lofty-pointed belfry ; the 
enormous and imposing mass of the male convent, placed 
under the patronage of Saint Alexander Nevsky, 
appeared in its turn, then lost itself in the perspective, as 
if it had turned upon itself, and the houses vanished. 
The manufactories alone continued to draw from the 
prodigal river the motive power and water they needed. 
To the left nature had resumed its rights, and the vast 
plains, the deserted banks, barely sown with a few osiers, 
seemed to belong to a distant country. 

It was at this moment, when the interest of the 
voyage seemed to be diminishing, that Korzof begged 


korzof’s declaration. 


69 


his guests to descend into the dining cabin, where a 
sumptuous breakfast awaited them. He was perfect in 
his role of host; nothing in him betrayed preoccupa- 
tions: nevertheless, his eyes rested upon Nadia with an 
evident satisfaction that filled the young girl with 
uneasiness and led her to ask herself a number of times 
if, by some misunderstanding of which she was ignorant, 
she had not allowed him to believe that she approved of 
his pursuit. But no, nothing in him bore witness to the 
joy of a - man who imagines he is about to reach the goal 
of his wishes ; hence the young girl resigned herself to 
await the solution of this enigma, that could not fail to 
reveal itself before long. 

Finally, a dense grove of lindens appeared at the 
horizon’s verge. 

“ There’s Spask ! ” cried the Prince, enchanted. “ Are 
not my grandfather’s lindens beautiful? Say, Korzof I ” 

“ They are enormous! They tower above the entire 
landscape. How old are they?” 

“Somewhere in the neighborhood of eighty years. 
My grandfather was young when he planted them. Say, 
Nadia, it wasn’t considered then so stupid to plant lin- 
dens! It seems to me that the fashion has its practical 
utility, not to speak ill of the modern youth, who don’t 
plant trees, and who content themselves with burning 
those our ancestors took so much trouble to raise.” 

Nadia smiled and did not reply; Korzof looked at her 
with a friendly and trustful gentleness that took from her 
all desire to protest against her father’s teasing. 

The yacht drew up to an old, wormeaten landing- 
place, the beams of which, turned green by the damp- 
ness, blackened by age, were of an admirable color of old 
bronze. Roubine and his daughter quitted the vessel 
and went ashore, where a deputation of peasants, com- 
manded by the staroste, or eldest of the party, awaited 


70 


korzof’s declaration. 


them. Korzof followed them, after having given a few 
orders, and the pretty yacht cast anchor in the tranquil 
water, to which the fish, frightened for an instant, returned 
to resume their gambols around the old beams. 

“ I warn you, Korzof, that you are about to see a sin- 
gular dwelling,” said the Prince. “If you want to be at 
your ease, you would do well to sleep on board your 
yacht. The old mansion was built by my grandfather, 
who did not wish to be far away from the court: it dates 
from the time of the Empress Catherine, as also do the 
majority of the country houses in this vicinity.” 

Korzof shook his head and followed them. They 
entered an old garden, shut in by palisades, the main 
alleys of which had in the past been paved with brick to 
keep the ground sloping at the time of the thaws. Huge 
clumps of lilacs and syringas lost themselves in the 
copses, formed by the shoots of old stumps of trees that 
had been cut down long ago, but the roots of which had 
remained in the ground. At the extremity of the 
garden, upon a slight eminence, stood the yet solid old 
wooden house ; the yellow wash with which it had 
formerly been covered had given place to the rust of 
time and was barely visible here and there. 

“It isn’t sumptuous, I tell you, Korzof,” said the 
Prince, “considering that you have a yacht lined with 
lemon wood — ” 

“1 have renounced luxury,” interrupted the young 
man, looking at Nadia with the mysterious smile that no 
longer quitted him. “Seriously, Prince, I have made a 
vow of poverty. May this modest and patriarchal roof 
hear and be propitious to me and I will bless it.” 

Nadia lowered her eyes. He followed her, and they 
all three entered the old mansion, while the peasants, 
who had escorted them respectfully and at a distance, 
remained without, with their heads humbly uncovered. 


BETROTHED. 


71 


CHAPTER IV. 

BETROTHED. 

The following morning Korzof was awakened early; 
liis chamber opened upon an old flower-garden where 
the ancient alleys, traced out by a Le Notre of the neigh- 
borhood, were yet visible between their borders of cen- 
tenarian box. He arose, made his toilet leisurely and 
went down into the garden that attracted him. 

Everything there was old and wormeaten ; the trunks 
of the huge lindens, solid as they were, had a damp and 
fragile air that was due to their mossy bark. It was in 
vain that the gardener in charge cleaned out the alleys, 
the grass grew there constantly, despite all his efforts ; 
the place, however, was not sad ; the eternally young 
breath of nature floated above the superannuated man- 
sion, the old flower-garden, the labyrinth in the antique 
mode ; the wild grass and the summer flowers gave each 
year a new and joyous life to the ancient and almost 
abandoned domain. 

The sun had risen amid mist, and a slight curtain of 
gray gauze seemed suspended from the lower extremity 
of the sky; soon the golden rays appeared above that 
fragile barrier and lighted up the trees. The heat was 
intense, but so equally distributed in the atmosphere that 
one bore it almost without thinking of it. Meanwhile 
the blue water reflected the light through the branches 
of the trees at the foot of the garden, with spangles of 
an extraordinary brightness. Korzof mechanically took 
an alley that led to the brink of the river. 


72 


BETROTHED. 


As he placed his hand upon the latch of the barred 
gate that shut in the garden, he stopped, stupefied. Some 
one at Spask had arisen sooner than he. Nadia, seated 
on the wooden bench of the landing-place, was watching 
the water flow at her feet. A large straw hat, trimmed 
with black velvet, hid her face; but from the motion of 
her bent head, Korzof comprehended that she was very 
grave, perhaps sad. He hesitated to approach, fearing 
to be indiscreet; but she had heard the sound of the gate 
turning upon its hinges and was already making him a 
pretty, friendly gesture. He crossed the trembling bridge 
and found himself beside the young girl. 

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” said she, arranging her dress 
to make room for him at her side. “In an hour it will 
no longer be tenable, but while the sun is hidden behind 
the lindens the coolness is delicious.” 

In truth the place was all that could be desired. The 
Neva described an elbow at this point, so that it appeared 
almost like a lake closed in on all sides by verdant 
banks; the alders and the osiers of the other shore suf- 
ficed to give this illusion to the eye. The grand mass 
of trees in the garden threw over the shore and the river 
its shadow, pierced here and there by golden rays that, 
gliding like arrows through the openings of this somber 
grove, made glitter with sunlight the little, active and 
hurried wavelets agitated by a light breeze. At the edge 
the water was calmer; the shallowness of the little cove 
gave it the repose and transparence of a pond. The old 
wooden posts, bronzed and turned green by the dampness, 
mirrored themselves there with the frail construction 
they supported; even to Nadia’s hat, everything was 
reflected and trembled in the water, darkened by a back- 
ground of grasses like velvet. A little further away the 
yacht slumbered at anchor. The crew had gone ashore 
to breakfast, as was shown by the boat moored by a chain 


BETROTHED. 


73 


to a special stake. Nothing troubled the solitude save 
the cry of the martins that grazed the river in pursuit 
of winged insects. 

“I promised you,” said Korzof, “to tell you what I did 
in St. Petersburg.” 

The Princess looked at him, then lowered her eyes 
and appeared to be listening attentively. 

“I asked,” continued the young man, “concerning the 
amount of work that represented — ” 

He paused, with a smile on his lips, awaiting a ques- 
tion. Nadia cast a rapid and furtive glance at him, but 
continued to preserve silence. 

“You are not curious?” asked he, in a tender and 
moved voice. 

She shook her head negatively ; but the negative sign 
clearly said yes. 

“I asked,” resumed he, “concerning the amount of 
work represented by a doctor’s diploma.” 

“You?” cried Nadia, looking him full in the face. 

“Yes. I learned that, with my anterior studies, for 
though I am an idle man I am not absolutely an ignorant 
one, three years, two years and a half, perhaps, would 
suffice to enable me to pass my examination for a doctor’s 
degree in a fashion, if not brilliant, at least honorable. 
What do you say about it? Shall I try? ” 

Nadia had resumed looking at the water, and her hat 
almost entirely concealed her face. Korzof continued ; 
he was uneasy, though he succeeded in hiding it; his 
voice betrayed him. 

“ I know very well that this is not enough ; hence I 
also did something else at St. Petersburg; I informed 
myself about the cost of constructions, the cost of 
ground. I made a great many calculations, and this is 
the conclusion I reached : In the poorest quarter of St. 
Petersburg, at the Peskis, a quarter devoted at all times 


74 


BETROTHED. 


to fatal epidemics, the ground is not dear; one might 
build an edifice in the modern style, healthful and well 
ventilated ; it would cost a million and a half of roubles. 
My domain of Korzova is worth that, and even more 
because of the forest of oaks. One might build a hos- 
pital that should bear your name, and where I might be 
physician under the orders of a chief, until such time as 
I became sufficiently learned to be director myself.” 

His voice died away little by little, for Nadia remained 
motionless, and the generous dream of the young man 
seemed to be crumbling to pieces before' him with the 
ruins of the imaginary hospital. Silence reigned upon 
the landing-place ; the birds cooed with all their might 
in the old lindens. 

Finally Nadia slowly raised her head and turned 
toward Korzof her large eyes, from which tears were 
overflowing. 

“ My friend,” said she, “ may we be happy — happy 
and blest ! ” 

Korzof without approaching took the hand she offered 
him, and they remained thus, motionless, following in 
their minds the crowning of the common work. At the 
expiration of a moment : 

“ It will be beautiful,” said she, iii a very low tone, 
while her free hand sketched in the air the outline of, 
the vast edifice. “ It is by such works that one becomes 
immortal,” continued the young girl; “one leaves a: 
name; that is nothing; but one leaves an example ; thati 
is what makes one great l ” 

“You are satisfied?” demanded Korzof, in a tone as 
calm as his companion’s. 

It seemed to him at that moment that this had been 
agreed upon a long while ago, and that they were only 
continuing a former conversation. 

“It is what I wanted!” said she, with a heavenly 


BETROTHED. 


75 


smile. “ And you found it out all alone. Oh, how nice 
that was I ” 

“Yon will wait three years for me? ” said he, with a 
shade of sadness. 

“ Three years ! What is that compared to life and to 
eternity? ” 

They fell back into their happy silence. Never had 
either of them felt so calm. It seemed to them that this 
resolution had cast their lives into a mold from which 
they would come out with a definite, unchangeable form. 

“ What, in the name of sense, can they be doing 
there?” cried the Prince on perceiving them. “What 
can they be doing upon the landing-place ? If they are 
not fishing, really I don’t see what ! ” 

The two young people had arisen and had already 
crossed the little bridge. 

Nadia ran to her father, put her forehead to his lips 
and threw herself in his arms with a cajoling gesture. 
Korzof approached more gravely and took the young 
girl’s hand. Then, with a simultaneous movement, they 
knelt before the Prince on the grass of the bank. 

“Fiances!” cried Boubine, overwhelmed, but en- 
chanted. 

“ Bless us ! ” said Korzof, without rising. 

Very grave, too much affected to speak, the Prince 
made above them the sign of the cross; then he raised 
them up with an affectionate clasp and held them in his 
embrace for an instant. 

When he had somewhat recovered: 

“ What a droll idea,” said he, “ to choose the water’s 
edge for this ceremony ! And at this hour, too ! But, 
Nadia, you never do anything like anybody else!” 

She smiled and kissed him. He rubbed his eyes with 
the back of his hand, then pulled his long mustache, 
and, steadying his voice : 


76 


BETROTHED. 


“It was, as I see,” he resumed, “a matter of place. 
At Peterhof, you wouldn’t have Korzof ; at Spask, you 
accepted him. Why didn’t you let me know sooner? — 
then we would have come here long ago! ” 

Nadia still smiled. They, slowly resumed the road to 
the mansion. 

“And that vow,” continued the Prince, “what have 
we done with it? Oh! Nadia! we will write together a 
chapter of philosophy, entitled ‘On the Imprudence of 
Rash Oaths! 1 Eh, my daughter?” 

Nadia smiled no longer. She pressed her father’s arm 
tightly against hers, and said, in a grave tone : 

“You have a strong affection for Dmitri Korzof, have 
you not, father?” 

“Of course I have!” cried the Prince. 

“Would you love him as much were he ruined?” 

“Ruined? — are you ruined, Korzof?” demanded Rou- 
bine, stopping short. 

“If he were ruined, father, would you love him as 
much? Would you be as well disposed to accept him 
for your son-in-law?” 

“Him! God be thanked, I have not a vile enough 
soul to reject him! You are sufficiently rich for both, 
Nadia, and an honest man ruined is an honest man all 
the same! ” 

He vigorously grasped Korzof’s hand, and both of 
them stood motionless, greatly affected. 

“He is ruined, father,” resumed Nadia, with an accent 
of triumph. “I have ruined him and am happy because 
of it. My soul is full of pride when I think that for me 
he has sacrificed his fortune and his entire existence!” 

Roubine, overwhelmed, let himself fall upon one of 
the wooden benches that were all along the avenue. 

“ Explain this to me,” said he, “ for I don’t understand 
anything about it.” 


BETROTHED. 


77 


The explanation was not long. When it was finished, 
lie maintained silence. 

“ It is absurd,” said he at length ; “in the last degree 
ridiculous ! Think of Korzof as a doctor with a case of 
instruments! You will bleed, Korzof; you will apply 
leeches ! I must be familiar with you, my son-in-law, I 
can’t help it! You will feel the cataplasms to see if 
they have tbe requisite amount of heat ; they put them 
against the cheek, you know, and if they don’t burn they 
can be applied! You will have a little thermometer in 
your pocket to verify the temperature of your patients. 
It is in the highest degree comical, but the deuce take me 
now if I’d have it anyway else ! It’s grand, you know; 
it’s superb; it’s — But, mon Dieu! how ridiculous you 
are both going to make yourselves ! ” 

He burst out laughing, while genuine tears of tender- 
ness rolled down his cheeks. He wiped them away and 
had another fit of merriment. 

“Mon Dieu! how droll it is!” cried he; “it makes 
me laugh until the tears come ! ” 

Suddenly, he stopped and then continued : 

“No, that’s not true — my laughter has nothing to do 
with my tears — I am weeping seriously and I don’t know 
why I should be ashamed of it. May God bless you in 
your new life, my children ! The benediction of a father 
calls down upon your heads all the grace of Heaven ! ” 
They remained mute, with bowed heads, feeling that 
something grave was being accomplished in them at that 
solemn hour. Roubine arose and went toward the 
house. 

“ See here, Nadia,” said he, looking back, his eyes still 
wet and his lips agitated by the mad laughter that had 
again seized upon him, “in ordering your trousseau, 
don’t forget the infirmary aprons ! Oh ! Nadia, when the 
Empress hears this, they’ll have a jolly time at court! ” 


78 


BETROTHED. 


“I don’t believe it, father,” said the young girl, 
smiling. 

“Neither do I! I don’t believe a word of it. But I 
must laugh ; if I didn’t I’d weep like an imbecile. And 
the yacht, now that you are penniless, my son-in-law? ” 

“ I will sell it ! ” joyously answered Korzof. 

“ Is a thing like that dear?” 

“ It’s worth about a hundred thousand francs.” 

“ All right. I’ll buy it of you. Nadia, I make you a 
present of it. With the money you can found a few 
more beds in your hospital. Mon Dieu! how droll it is 
to have a physician for a son-in-law ! Will you prevent 
me from getting the gout, say, my son-in-law ! ” 

“ I’ll try I ” replied the young man, smiling. 

The old cook had surpassed himself ; but none of 
them could remember what they ate that morning at 
breakfast. 

They were in no haste to return to Peterhof; they 
had a thousand plans to arrange, a thousand things to 
talk over; Boubine was an inexhaustible mine of objec- 
tions, but he allowed himself to be convinced by sound 
arguments. The two young people, full of ardor, did 
not recoil before any difficulty. Korzof had ordered his 
domain offered for sale; the purchase of the land was 
already being discussed among the men of business ; a 
few days of rest were absolutely necessary for the happy 
family before resuming the official and worldly life of 
Peterhof. The few days insensibly prolonged them- 
selves, so that three weeks had elapsed since their 
arrival at Spask, and the month of August was well 
advanced. 

“When do we leave?” asked Roubine, whose supply 
of cigars was becoming exhausted, one evening. 

“To-morrow, if you like,” replied his daughter. “ The 
yacht is ready, is it not, Dmitri?” 


BETROTHED. 


79 


“It will have steam up at five o’clock to-morrow 
morning.” 

“Five o’clock I” exclaimed the Prince, with a shiver. 
“Are there people who from taste get up at five o’clock? 
Let us say eight, will you, Korzof? ” 

“ As you please.” 

After dinner the young man deemed it advisable to 
cast a glance of examination at his vessel, and taking 
advantage of a moment when Nadia and her father 
seemed absorbed in the tolerably confused explanations 
of the staroste, he went with a rapid step down to the 
sloping alley that led to the shore. IIis inspection was 
brief, for everything on board was irreproachable ; after 
having given orders for the next day, he was preparing 
to return when his attention was attracted by a darkness 
that was slowly descending the course of the river. 

It consisted of two enormous boats, solidly fastened 
one to the other with ropes and loaded with hay to the 
height of the second story of a house. A roof of 
planks sloping on either side completed the resemblance 
to a house. The boatmen, in managing it, made their 
way around the thick mass by running along the edge, a 
foot wide: upon this narrow passage they found the 
means of accomplishing the necessary movements; occa- 
sionally an awkward fellow tumbled into the water, but 
the Russian boatmen swim like fish, and the edge of the 
craft being nearly on a level with the river’s surface, the 
bather in spite of himself soon scrambled on board again 
amid the jokes of his comrades. 

The coupled boats were advancing, borne by the cur- 
rent that was making them turn insensibly; after the 
first pair, others had shown themselves at the turn of 
the Neva, and their somber flotilla, spaced at irregular 
intervals, had gradually covered the brilliant surface of 
the water. The sun had set, the night was falling, all 


80 


BETROTHED. 


was becoming gray, almost sorrowful; these gigantic 
masses were filing away slowly, as if under a mysterious 
impulsion. Korzof paused to look at them. At the 
same moment he heard the footsteps and the voices of 
the Prince and his daughter, who soon rejoined him. 

“ What is that? One might say the river was full of 
phantoms,” said the Prince, stopping, out of breath, upon 
the landing-place. 

“It’s hay from the meadows of Ladoga, going to sup- 
ply the St. Petersburg market,” answered Korzof. 

“Those boats? — and without lights! Where are their 
regulation signals ? ” 

“The boats that carry hay have no signal lights, 
because of the danger of conflagrations. They stop at 
dark, and, without doubt, these are going to pass the 
night near the village, a little below Spask.” 

The procession continued to file away slowly and 
noiselessly upon the river, as brilliant as new pewter. 

“They have a lugubrious air,” resumed Roubine. 
“Ho! men!” cried he, at the top of his voice, “sing us 
something!” 

Some one out in the stream answered with a sort of 
rallying cry, and instantly a fresh and rich tenor voice 
sent forth a lingering melody in a minor key, with 
gentle and yielding inflections, interrupted from time to 
time by a very high note long held. A four-part chorus, 
short and exceedingly rhythmical, served as a refrain; 
then the chant was resumed. During this time the boat 
had floated away and disappeared at the bend of the 
river; other peasants on other boats that came in their 
turn took up the melody, varying it according to the 
caprices of their memories or fancies, and always, at 
equal intervals, the chorus resumed the refrain, as if to 
remind the soloist that he was not all alone in this world, 
lost in the midst of a broad river upon a solitary boat. 


BETROTHED. 


81 


Little by little, the floating shadows united in a somber 
mass amid the denser obscurity along the shore; the 
chants ceased and no more boats passed. Fires were 
lighted on the opposite bank. 

“Good night,” said the Prince. “They are going to 
sleep in the open air; let us retire to our beds. That’s 
the philosophy of humanity, Korzof! Say, Nadia, do 
you want us also to sleep in the open air in the spirit of 
equality ? ” 

“No, father,” gently responded she; “I should only 
like them to have each a bed as good as ours I ” 

“ That’s impracticable ! ” said Eoubine, laughing. 
“ But do you know, Nadia, that a bed with coverings 
would, perhaps, bother those hardy fellows a great deal ! 
They are not used to such things.” 

“ Father, don’t tease me ! ” said she, mildly. 

Eoubine kissed her tenderly, and they re-entered the 
dilapidated old mansion, where the luxury of the silver- 
ware and the lights contrasted so strangely with the 
moldy hangings and the ancient furniture. 

The departure was fixed for eight o’clock, but what 
good is there in hurrying when one is the master of 
one’s time? Nadia regretted having to quit the old 
mansion, where she had just passed the sweetest hours 
of her existence; she strayed into all the comers with 
a smiling melancholy, as if she desired to leave there the 
souvenir of her presence. Eoubine had a thousand 
affairs to finish with his staroste and the peasants. 
Toward ten o’clock he remembered that he had forgotten 
to give orders for painting the outside of the dwelling, 
which he wished to have done from bottom to top. 

“Bah!” said he, “we will start after breakfast. If 
we arrive a trifle late it won’t be a great misfortune, and, 
besides, we have the current in our favor.” 

In short, the departure was so much retarded that it 

5 


82 


BETROTHED. 


was nearly three o’clock in the afternoon when the yacht 
quitted the landing-place. An eddy in the tranquil 
water, caused by the movement of the screw, and the 
bank was already distant. ' Nadia cast a glance of adieu 
at the beautiful lindens, at the moss-covered beams. 

“That’s the past,” said Korzof, gently, approaching 
her; “ the future is there ! ” 

He pointed toward St. Petersburg, yet invisible in the 
west. She smiled upon him with that grace that 
rendered her irresistible. 

“The present is here,” said she, “and it includes every 

joy!” . 

Koubine was smoking beneath the cotton duck awning, 
with a happy and indolent air. 

“Eh! Nadia,” cried he, without turning, “what would 
you do if you were no longer rich? Suppose I also 
should found a hospital and take advantage of that 
circumstance to disinherit you ? ” 

“As God wills, father,” answered she, with a slight 
sigh. 

The Prince glanced at her sidewise ; she was perfectly 
sincere. 

“Well, no!” said he, resuming his long pipe, “I shall 
not do that sublime act. I shall keep my money and 
found nothing at all; there will be, perhaps, I may say 
probably, some day, little personages who will not be 
sorry to find it at the proper time ! ” 

He resumed his half-somnolent state, and Nadia, chat- 
ting in a low tone with her betrothed, soon lost herself 
in innumerable dreams, all relating to their projected 
foundation. 

The hay boats had disappeared; at that hour they had 
arrived in the harbor at St. Petersburg. 

The day passed quietly; a slight accident that hap- 
pened to the screw at the moment of departure made 


BETROTHED. 


83 


the voyage slower; but, as the Prince bad said, they had 
the current in their favor; however, when they sat down 
at table for dinner the manufactories in the vicinity 
of St. Petersburg had barely commenced to show them- 
selves on the left bank of the river. 

“ The wisest course,” said the engineer, confidentially 
to Korzof, who was uneasy at this slowness, “the wisest 
course to pursue would be to stop the yacht for a short 
time. In half an hour I shall have replaced the defec- 
tive piece, and we can put on an extra head of steam; 
without that I greatly fear I shall not be able to reach 
Peterhof until fkr into the night.” 

The little vessel was stopped to put into effect this 
prudent advice. While the friends were dining the 
damage was repaired, and at eight o’clock in the evening 
they resumed their trip, this time with all the haste 
desirable. 

It was dark when they were passing St. Petersburg; 
they had lighted their lanterns and were navigating with 
prudence to avoid collisions with the dispatch boats, the 
crews of which are not always sober when evening 
comes on. Suddenly Nadia, who was looking over the 
stern, cried out: 

“See! What’s that?” 

An enormous mass of smoke had arisen in the direc- 
tion of the Convent of Smolna, that they had passed but 
an instant since, and almost simultaneously the sky was 
illuminated with an intense light, that fell immediately 
to reappear more brilliant and more sinister. 

“A conflagration! Let’s go see it!” exclaimed Rou- 
bine. 

In all the countries of the world a conflagration 
excites curiosity, but nowhere, we believe, as much as in 
Russia, where, though such calamities are not rare, 
thanks to the abundance of wooden buildings, essentially 


84 


BETROTHED. 


inflammable, at tbe cry: “Parjar (fire)!” each person 
quits bis work or bis occupation and runs to tbe scene 
of the disaster. The curiosity is the same among tbe 
highest classes of society and among the lowest; in the 
crowd that hurries to the burning edifices will be found 
as many great lords and even great ladies as peasants. 
To see a fine fire, people gladly order out their carriages 
or tbeir sledges. 

>“ All right! — we’ll go!” replied Korzof, who ordered 
the engineer to turn back the yacbt. 

Tbe light increased every instant, but the travelers 
could not see the locality of the fire, hidden by a prom- 
ontory jutting far out into the river, that describes at 
this spot almost an acute angle. The dispatch boats, the 
yawls of the watermen, and a government steam tug, 
always ready in case of accidents, went rapidly toward 
the conflagration. One could hear upon the quays and 
in tbe streets tbe deafening clatter of fire-engines, drawn 
over the paving-stones by their incomparable horses, and 
the constant roll of innumerable vehicles, borne by 
galloping steeds toward tbe point as yet unknown. 
Great sheaves of sparks shot up into tbe sky like fire- 
works, indicating that tbe place was close at hand. 

“What could bum like that? ” asked Nadia. 

“Tbe hay-market, I think,” replied Korzof. 

“If it be only a financial loss, — ” began Roubine. 

He paused, mute with surprise; two coupled boats had 
appeared at the turn of tbe river, wrapped in flames 
from hull to top; they advanced majestically, like a 
gigantic fire-ship, flaming in the tranquil air. After 
these, two others, then two others again. The fire having 
consumed tbeir coupling ropes, they were drifting peace- 
fully down the river, illuminating with a splendid and 
lugubrious glow the houses and the public buildings. It 
was very calm and it was horrible. 


BETROTHED. 


85 


A cry of terror resounded everywhere, upon the river 
and upon the shore. 

“The bridges!” 

The first bridge that barred the passage of these fire-ships 
of a new kind was the great Liteine bridge, since replaced 
by a stone structure, but which, destined to receive the 
first shock of the ice coming from Lake Ladoga at the 
period of the thaws, was then composed only of a large 
number of pontoon boats, fastened together by a solid 
wooden flooring. This system admitted of folding the 
bridge along the banks at the time of the dreaded 
passage of the ice. Three large bridges of this kind 
crossed the Neva in its course through the city, and a 
considerable quantity of others, less important in regard 
to size, facilitated the passage through the different arms 
it forms at its mouth, connecting the islands with each 
other in a space of several kilometres. If the first 
bridge took fire from contact with the’ burning boats, the 
glowing wrecks descending the river would carry the 
conflagration to all the shores, where are gathered innu- 
numerable vessels of all tonnage; the loss would be 
incalculable. 

The little government tug, directed by a skillful 
waterman, had already seized the tow chain of the first 
bridge ; the cables of the anchors, cut by boarding axes, 
had dropped to the bottom and slowly, with extreme 
precision, as if nothing pressed, the bridge, folding along 
the shore, left the way open to the first fire-ship that 
passed tranquilly ; one might say that it expected this 
homage. 

“That’s a capital pilot!” cried Eoubine, admiring the 
success of the maneuver. “To the other bridges, men; 
we have no time to amuse ourselves!” 

The yacht steamed at full speed toward the Troi'tzky 
bridge, where zealous men had already cut the cables, 


86 


BETROTHED. 


while awaiting a tow boat. Korzof caused the end of a 
chain to be thrown to him, and the gigantic bridge, a 
kilometre in length, was also ranged against the bank. 
A dispatch boat, requisitioned for the purpose, accom- 
plished the same office for the Palace bridge, and the 
Neva was free. All the boats, all the vessels not required 
for the service of the river police had vanished and 
hidden themselves in the most inaccessible corners. 

It was time. The flotilla, all in flames, was descend- 
ing the noble river with the majesty of a power which 
knows itself invincible. It was an exceedingly strange 
sight — the fire raging upon the surface of the water, 
bearing away worlds of sparks and smoke. In the tran- 
quil air, beneath the blue sky, this spectacle had some- 
thing fantastic about it. The crowd, grouped on the 
quays, appeared as if in broad day to the spectators upon 
the river: the human faces, all wearing the same expres- 
sion of interest, admiration and horror, were distin- 
guished with astonishing clearness. 

Nadia, leaning against the netting of the yacht, could 
not take her eyes from the scene. Roubine and Korzof 
incessantly gave directions, in order to keep the vessel 
in the midst of the current and at the same time steer 
clear of the fire-ships. 

“Use the boat-hook!” cried somebody through a 
speaking trumpet. 

In fact, two of the burning boats were drifting toward 
the little arm of the Neva, where numerous ships had 
taken refuge and where it had been impossible to with- 
draw the bridges. The available steamboats, manned by 
courageous sailors, advanced to meet the monsters of fire 
to offer them an obstacle and compel them to return to 
the main channel, where they would ultimately strand 
against the Nicholas bridge, built of stone and conse- 
quently invulnerable. 


BETROTHED. 


87 


It was a lively struggle. The boat-hooks were not 
long enough ; they took the spare masts, that they were 
compelled to dip in the water every instant to prevent them 
from taking fire. The men who struggled thus were 
constantly flooded with water by their comrades; with- 
out that they could not have borne for an instant this 
terrible duel face to face with the fire. 

“ It is impossible to look on and remain useless,” said 
Korzof to his guests. “ Allow me to put you on shore.” 

Roubine refused to consent to this. Nadia gently 
placed her hand upon his arm, and he said nothing 
further. An instant afterwards they were upon the 
bank near the fortress, and Korzof, after having provided 
himself with boat-hooks, started off again for the 
menaced spot. 

His yacht, more alert than the dispatch boats, lent 
itself marvelously to this species of combat. Sometimes 
by simply quickening its speed, it drew into its wake 
a fire-ship ready to go astray, sometimes it bravely 
placed itself sidewise, and putting the power of steam at 
the service of the boat-hook employed as a spur, it fell 
upon the wandering mass and drove it back into the 
channel. Nearly forty boats had thus passed, many 
had foundered ; others had stranded in deserted places, 
where they could do no further damage; two or three 
were still floating in the midst of the river, half sub- 
merged. A last one arrived, higher and broader, newly 
set fire to and hurling forth torrents of sparks like a 
fireworks sun. It was drifting toward the dangerous 
point, with the certainty of attack of an intelligent 
being. 

“Attention, men! No false movement!” cried Korzof, 
who was watching it. 

Several sailors held themselves in readiness to act; 
the engineer made a false maneuver; the attack was 


88 


BETROTHED. 


awkwardly made and two boat-hooks fell into the river. 
A third, imbedded in the burning hay, remained sus- 
pended there ; but the impulsion had sufficed to force the 
boat back into the channel. 

“ To the right I” shouted Korzof. 

The dismayed engineer either misunderstood or badly 
executed this order; he moved a lever and the yacht 
shot alongside of the fire-ship. A cry of horror arose 
from the shore. 

“A boat-hook!” cried Korzof — “a pole! — no matter 
what ! ” 

There was nothing upon deck, and, besides, the flames 
■were already leaping among the rigging. Korzof remem- 
bered that he had gunpowder on board. 

“ To the boat! ” shouted he. 

His men were already in it; he descended the last, 
cast off the chain, and the light skiff* was rowed away. 
Upon the river, the other boats that had approached to 
aid him had drawn back, the danger being understood, 
and held themselves aloof. 

At the moment the skiff landed at the feet of Nadia, 
who, bent forward, sought to recognize her betrothed, 
the boat and the yacht, still clinging together, passed in 
company before them. With a sound like the report of 
a cannon, the stern of the little craft exploded, while the 
fore plunged gracefully like a diving swan. 

“ Your pretty vessel ! ” cried Roubine, full of regret. 

Korzof had already passed Nadia’s arm beneath his; 
his visage glowing, his beard and hair reddened, he 
appeared to his betrothed handsomer than a demi-god. 

“ What would you have?” said he, laughing; happi- 
ness must be paid for! Polycrates threw a ring into the 
sea; we cast our yacht into it and keep our felicity.” 

The Emperor, who had long known Korzof, caused 
him to present himself before him the following day. 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


89 


“ What do you want for your yacht? ” asked he, after 
having complimented him. 

“A site for my hospital,” answered the young man. 
“ That will enable me to found fifty additional beds!” 

A week later the first stone of the hospital was sol- 
emnly laid in an immense plot of ground partly planted 
with trees — the imperial gift; and the Princess Roubine 
was officially declared betrothed to Dmitri Korzof. 


-: 0 : 


CHAPTER Y. 

A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 

After the first sensation that followed the public 
betrothal of the young Princess the animation commenced 
to subside; people had at first cried out about the gran- 
deur of the sacrifice, now they said among themselves 
that it was absurd. Had not St. Petersburg hospitals 
enough? Would doctors ever be lacking? One had 
only to glance at the crowd of students hurrying to the 
halls of the faculty of medicine to assure one’s self that 
the sick would never die because of a scarcity of physi- 
cians. In brief, after having exalted to the clouds the 
devotion of the betrothed couple people covered them 
with ridicule, as any wise head would have been able to 
foresee. 

They did not bother themselves in the least about all 
this clatter, absorbed as they were in the preparations for 
departure and in the multitudinous preoccupations occa- 
sioned by the sale of Korzofs properties. He had 
reserved for himself only a little estate, of a mediocre 


90 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


revenue, in order, as he said, not to lose completely the 
habit of ownership. The funds resulting from this sale 
were, as fast as they were received, to serve to pay the 
expenses of the budding hospital, and to be placed so as 
to furnish an income as advantageous as possible. The 
imperial munificence had already manifested itself, 
besides the gift of the site, by the promise of a very 
considerable sum annually; Nadia had declared that she 
did not wish to receive other wedding presents than gifts 
for the new foundation, and everything promised an 
exceedingly brilliant future for the great work of the 
young pair. 

The sole shadow in this picture was the approaching 
departure of Korzof for Paris, where he proposed to spend 
the first year of his medical studies. By dint of talking 
of the same things, of revolving the same ideas, he had 
so thoroughly identified himself with Nadia that the 
thought of a separation was for them a veritable grief. 
The Prince had even proposed to go pass the winter in 
Paris, “ to gild the pill,” as he said; but the young man 
himself had been sufficiently courageous to refuse. 

“ I know well enough that 1 should not toil seriously,” 
said he ; “ let us not have partial courage merely, let us 
be really strong ! ” 

Toward the close of October, therefore, he departed, 
and Nadia, restored to .society life, prepared on her side 
for more serious duties than those she had accomplished 
up to that period. She was able to divide up her time 
so as to consecrate every day several hours to her studies, 
and nevertheless she accomplished all her duties toward 
society with the most rigorous punctuality. The winter 
passed more rapidly than she expected, and toward the 
month of June, at the moment of departing for the 
country, she went to make a farewell visit to the hospital 
buildings, already well advanced. 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


91 


The winter had stopped work on the edifice for several 
months; but, from the first fine days, they had put on so 
many workmen that the enormous structure was emerg- 
ing from the earth literally while one gazed at it. Nadia 
made the tour of the constructions, advanced across all 
the planks that served as scaffolding, examined the sub- 
cellars and the cellars, scrutinized the arrangements for 
drainage; having grown very expert in the study of 
plans, she had a long talk with the architect, and 
departed at last, her heart swollen with proud joy. 

“ 1 don’t understand anything about it,” said her father, 
amazed; “she argues matters with the architect, and 
knows the quality of bricks better than the contractor ! 
Nadia, are you making fun of them or of me ? ” 

She answered merely with a happy smile, and that 
very evening sent her betrothed a long letter, in which 
the details of the work finished occupied less space than 
the joyous outpouring of her soul. She imagined she 
already saw the completed hospital offer to the eye 
resting upon it its long rows of clean and well-kept beds. 

“No one will die there,” said she; “we shall see no 
tears there; all who enter will leave it cured and tri- 
umphant.” 

A few daj^s later, they departed for their large estate in 
the government of Smolensk. 

The old superintendent received them on their arrival, 
whimpering and whining, as had been his custom for 
fifty years. Thanks to this habit of complaining of 
everything — of the weather, of the crops, of the times 
and of his health — he had put aside quite a fortune and 
had cheated in the shrewdest way in the world all those 
who had done business with him. How could it be, 
thought simple souls, that this man, constantly within 
two fingers of death, was capable of voluntarily mysti- 
fying his neighbor? 


92 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


It was thus that he had acquired a competence more 
than gilded, gleaned from the possessions of his master 
and augmented by handsome presents, willingly made or 
extorted; to’his mind, the most important thing was 
that he should get the money in his pocket; once there, 
it was very certain not to go out again. But although 
he was rich, although the peasants of the neighborhood 
could, while chatting frankly among themselves, estimate 
to within a few roubles the large capital for which they 
paid him enormous interest, no one ever saw him save in 
dirty and patched garments. It was only to honor his 
master that he reluctantly risked taking from his clothes- 
press a caftan less soiled than usual; as to his fur cap, 
worn away to the very skin, no one would ever have 
thought of having him replace it with another. Without 
his cap, Ivan Stepline would no longer have been him- 
self. 

His son Fdodor was beside him, as straight as a poplar 
tree, listening to the old man’s complaints with an air at 
once wearied and suitable. These prolix complaints 
were no longer the fashion, and he, who prided himself 
on being up to the times, certainly suffered internally on 
seeing his father play this role that he considered degrad- 
ing. Hence he accompanied the Prince and his daughter 
with an uncovered head and without saying a word. 
When they reached the great hall, he asked them, in a 
respectful tone, *ih they had any orders to give him and, 
receiving a reply in the negative, withdrew; Ivan Step- 
line was then compelled to follow him. 

Very early the next morning, Nadia was already trip- 
ping through the gardens and the green-houses of their 
beautiful domain. She had always loved this spot, 
where it sometimes seemed to her that she saw 
float, the image of her mother, who had tenderly 
cherished her. It was here that the Princess was 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


93 


born, it was here that she liad brought into the 
world her only daughter; it was in the church, looming 
up opposite the chateau, that her body had reposed for 
long years. In her new happiness, in the new pride she 
felt as a triumphant fiancee, Nadia had need to visit 
all these spots, full of souvenirs of her childhood; she 
found them again there, as fresh as in the past; but they 
seemed to her to have strangely lost much of their im- 
portance and interest; all her anterior life was drowned in 
the splendor of her present joy and of the glorious future 
that was opening before her. 

About eleven o’clock she returned with slow steps 
toward the mansion, carrying an arm-load of flowers she 
had gathered in the gardens. Upon the threshold she 
found her father, ready to go out; they silently took 
their way to the church, where the priest awaited them, 
clad in his mourning chasuble. In the center of the 
choir, upon a small table covered with a fine linen cloth, 
was placed a plate full of boiled rice amid which was a 
cross formed of dried grapes. The servants, the footmen, 
the superintendent with his family and a goodly number 
of peasants were grouped in the church and respectfully 
opened a passage for the Prince and his daughter, who 
took up a position in the place of honor, reserved for 
the lords of the manor and notable personages, on the 
left side, within a small grating, open in the center. 
This place, that was opposite to the group of choristers, 
was quite near the images of the Saviour and the saints 
that ornamented the iconostase, a sort of partition separ- 
ating the tabernacle from the church proper. 

The priest saluted the faithful, commencing with the 
lords, then addressing himself to the choir and after- 
wards to the crowd massed in the church; he took a 
smoking censer that was presented to him by the deacon, 
clad like himself in the symbols of mourning, and offered 


94 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


the incense to the plate of rice, destined to represent in 
the funeral ceremonies the body of the deceased person 
for whom the prayers for the dead were uttered. He 
afterwards sang the mortuary verses, to which the choir 
responded in a plaintive fashion. 

The ceremony, which was brief, was finished according 
to the rites, and, when it was over, Roubine went to a 
slab without inscription, situated at the entrance of the 
choir. Nadia knelt beside him and scattered her flowers 
over the stone that covered the vault in which her 
mother reposed. As far back as she could remember 
this pious pilgrimage had been the first act of their 
sojourn in this domain; she had always accomplished it 
with a pious tenderness; but, this time, as she presented 
her offering and her prayer to the dear deceased, the 
young girl said to her, in a very low tone, as if she were 
able to hear her. “Mother, I am happy; bless me in my 
new happiness!” 

On quitting the church the Prince and his daughter 
exchanged a few words with such of their peasants as 
they knew personally, who had approached to kiss their 
hands. It was in the time of serfdom, but Roubine was 
beloved by all his serfs. They would have preferred a 
less rapacious superintendent; for this evil, however, 
none knew a remedy, all the superintendents, with a few 
inappreciable differences, being nearly of the same kind ; 
but the rigors of Stepline were greatly softened by the 
annual presence of the master, who saw with his own 
eyes the condition of the district, willingly listened to 
the complaints and never refused to give wood to build a 
new isba, when the old one had fallen into decay. Nadia 
inquired concerning her hospital, where everything was 
going on splendidly, thanks to the new health officer, 
who had been found to be an active and resolute man ; 
he had formerly been a regimental surgeon, and had 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


95 


established from the first day a military discipline, always 
very useful in taking care of the sick, but more useful, 
perhaps, than elsewhere in Russia, where everybody is, 
for that matter, but little disposed by temperament to let 
things get along without interference. 

The clock on the manor house struck noon; the 
Prince took leave of those who surrounded him, 
requested the priest to come a few hours later to say 
prayers and bless the mansion, in order to drive from it 
all misfortune, as all Russians do when they install them- 
selves anywhere; then he entered the dwelling with 
his daughter. In the afternoon the prayers were said 
and a collation was offered to the priest and the deacon, 
after which life resumed its ordinary routine of pleasure 
and duties. 

On the morrow of this well-employed day, when Rou- 
bine and Nadia had just passed after breakfast into a 
cool salon, situated to the north, into which those 
scourges of Russia in summer, the flies, never ventured, 
Stepline showed his pimpled nose in the embrasure of 
the door, still standing open. 

“Can I enter?” demanded he, with the most obsequi- 
ous politeness. 

An affirmative nod having reassured him, he introduced 
into the salon the rest of his person, that had always the 
air of presenting itself sidewise, in order to occupy less 
space, without doubt. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” asked Roubine, without raising 
his eyes from his newspaper. 

“This, batiouchka,” replied the superintendent, making 
use of an affectionate term that signifies, literally, my 
little father, and is employed in speaking as well to 
superiors as to inferiors with less ceremony than the 
word-barine that signifies master or lord.” You know, 
batiouchka, that I have a son, a fine lad ; he had the 


96 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


honor of bringing you your revenues in the month of 
June.” 

“I remember,” interrupted the Prince, who did not 
like long speeches. “Well?” 

“Well, Prince, the young man is old enough to get 
married. What do you think about it?” 

The penetrating eyes of the old man wandered from 
Roubine to Nadia, with the regularity of one of those 
clocks from the Black Forest, in which one sees a lion 
rolling a look at once ferocious and meek. 

“What do you want me to think?” responded Rou- 
bine, turning the page of his newspaper, behind which 
for the moment he wholly disappeared. “ It is the young 
man’s own business.” 

Nadia had blushed, more from anger than shame; she 
remained motionless and impassible. 

“The fact is, batiouchka, that a party has proposed to 
me a betrothed for my son, a handsome girl, well-bred 
and rich, but, without your consent, I would not — oh I 
for nothing in the world, without your consent and that 
of the Princess — ” 

His eyes continued to roam from one to the other. 
Nadia arose and look a book from the table. 

“What do you want?” demanded Roubine, at last 
putting down his newspaper. “My permission for the 
marriage of your son? Let’s see now; who is she, this 
betrothed of whom you speak?” 

“For a demoiselle, she is not a demoiselle — she is 
simply the daughter of a superintendent, as my Feodor 
is the son of a superintendent. We peasants cannot 
pretend to demoiselles — is not that true, Princess? But 
a superintendent’s daughter who has a little money and 
knows all a housekeeper ought to know, that don’t hurt 
anything, and it’s all we need — is not that true, 
Princess? ” 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


97 


“Evidently,” answered Nadia, turning toward .him to 
look him full in the face. “Why do you ask me that 
question, Stepline? Had you your thoughts turned 
toward something else?” 

She spoke in such a calm and haughty tone that the 
restless eyes of the old man became motionless beneath 
his lowered eyelids. 

“ No, Princess,” said he, humbly. “ Then this marriage 
meets your views?” 

“My father is master here,” said she, haughtily; 
“address yourself to him” 

“Prince, does this marriage meet your views?” 
repeated Stepline, in a submissive tone. 

“I beg to remind you,” said Roubine, a trifle irritated 
by the strange turn, full of hidden meanings, that this 
interview seemed to be taking; “do you hear me, Step- 
line? I beg to remind you that this is do affair of mine; 
I gave you your liberty twenty years ago — you are free, 
your son is free; he can contract marriage under what- 
ever conditions he may think fit; I have nothing to say.” 

“But,” insisted the old sharper, resuming his cus- 
tomary plaintive tone, “if your Highness should with- 
draw your good graces from my son after me, and he be 
not the superintendent of your Highness, what will 
become of his children, his poor little children, he will 
have when he is married?” 

Roubine burst out laughing. 

“Great heavens!” cried he, “one might say that you 
know how to foresee evils afar off! Well, listen to me: 
I am aware that you rOb me and oppress my peasants; 
let your son do as you do and I will say nothing; it is 
the natural order of things. But if he should pass the 
limit I won’t promise anything; I will pitilessly drive 
him away, even should he have at his heels two dozen of 
those poor little children you just spoke of 1” 

6 


98 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


“Then you consent? And tlie Princess also?” said 
the crafty old man, setting his eyes at liberty. 

“Yes, since you are told so.” 

“In that case will you allow the fiance to present 
himself before you with the fiancee?” 

“Where are they?” asked Roubine in surprise. 

“In the ante-chamber, where they await the good 
pleasure of your Highness.” 

Roubine threw himself back in his fauteuil, holding 
his sides. 

“Mon Dieul Stepline,” cried he, between two bursts of 
laughter, “you are what one might call a man of pre- 
cautions; you will make me die of joy!” 

Nadia did not laugh ; she attentively examined the 
superintendent’s countenance that expressed only a sort 
of good-natured contentment ; gently, without speaking, 
she placed her hand upon the shoulder of the Prince, 
who instantly resumed his sang-froid. 

“Go,” said he, “and find them. It is not polite to 
make them wait.” 

Stepline went out, after having made three ceremonious 
bows lower than the belt.. 

“What do you think of that? ” said Roubine, looking 
at his daughter, divided between a new temptation to 
laugh and a certain astonishment at all this conversation. 

“I think that man is very crafty, and that it would 
be prudent for you to watch him as well as his son ; you 
are too kind, father ; you never think that with so much 
kindness you may make yourself enemies, and yet Step- 
line detests us ! ” 

Roubine, petrified with surprise, was still staring , at 
his daughter when the door re-opened and gave passage 
to the betrothed couple, who entered holding each other 
by the hand. 

The young girl was neither ugly nor pretty ; her face, 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


99 


of a dazzling freshness, like those of almost all the girls 
of her age and condition, was very ordinary. She was 
destined, according to all appearances, to be a good house- 
keeper, a faithful wife, a mother of a family without 
reproach, and to get fat toward her thirtieth year in a 
woeful fashion. Nadia looked at her with a certain dis- 
dain that Fdodor surprised with a rapid glance. He 
colored to the roots of his hair and advanced with lowered 
eyes toward the Prince; on arriving in front of him, 
they moved as if to prostrate themselves. Roubine 
stopped them with a gesture before they had accom- 
plished the ceremonial. 

“ My compliments,” said he, smiling, with an air half- 
benevolent, half-joking ; “ you don’t lose any time, you 
people! Hardly have you shed your milk teeth than 
you are already thinking of getting married I ” 

“ So much the better, father,” said Nadia, in her gentle 
voice ; “ they will have time to be happy.” 

A glance flashed from beneath Feodor’s lowered eye- 
lids, and his jaw contracted as if he wanted to bite some- 
thing, but he said nothing ; his countenance resumed its 
immobility, and no longer expressed anything save the 
conventional deference of a subordinate in the presence 
of his superiors. 

“Be seated,” said the Prince. “We will drink to 
your health.” 

Nadia rang, and a waiter immediately appeared, gar- 
nished with glasses and carafes containing carefully 
decanted foreign wines ; the butler, who knew the cus- 
toms, had prepared in advance this inevitable mark of 
hospitality. The glasses were filled ; the Prince raised 
his, saying : “ To your prosperity ! ” Those present did 
the same, responding: “Long life to your Highness! 
We humbly thank you!” They exchanged bows, and 
the glasses were emptied at a single swallow, as became 


100 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


true Russians. Then, the betrothed pair and old Stepline 
arose and withdrew with a final bow. 

When the' door of the adjoining apartment had closed 
upon them, Roubine looked at his daughter with a comi- 
cal air. 

“ Well, she is not handsome, the future Madame Step- 
line,” said he, in French. “ I have the notion that her 
betrothed did not seem very enthusiastic over her ; he 
does not appear to consider this marriage a promotion, 
eh, Nadia?” 

The young girl remained silent for an instant, then 
raised to her father a firm look, from which all false 
shame, all puerile embarrassment had disappeared. 

“The old man,” said she, “is a tricky fellow, but I 
don’t think him wicked, although he detests us from 
principle. As to the son, don’t deceive yourself, father ; 
beneath his varnish of manners, relatively correct, he is 
a rude peasant. He hates us.” 

“He hates us! Mon Dieu! Nadia, what are you 
stuffing me with ? Why should he hate us?” 

“Because we are rich and he is less so than we. 
Further, because his wealth consists only in what he has 
stolen from us. Because we are civilized and he is just 
enough so to feel how much we are superior to him. 
Because he is ambitious and his ambitions are destined 
to be crossed.” 

“Nadia! Is it you who are talking — you who lay 
open every ambition to all classes?” 

“ Every healthful and loyal ambition — yes, father ! 
But this man does not wish to be either more learned, 
better or greater; he wishes to rule in order to tyrannize, 
to be powerful not to create but to destroy, to be rich for 
the sake of enjoyment, not to heal the wounds of those 
who suffer. Such ambitions, unfortunately, are the most 
frequent. This man knows no others!” 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


101 


“ How did you find out all this, my daughter? ” asked 
the Prince, overwhelmed. 

“ I cannot tell you exactly,” answered she, growing a 
trifle confused. 

Feodor Stepline assuredly inspired her with neither 
sympathy nor pity, but she feared that her father would 
become terribly angry if he learned what she had guessed 
at the time of her interview at Peterhof with the super- 
intendent’s son. With that instinctive dread that calm 
people have of the fury of violent men, she wished to 
avoid a scandal, and she knew the Prince to be a person 
of extreme violence. 

“You know, father,” resumed she, “that I see a great 
deal, and often without accounting for it to myself; 
believe me, I ask you only to be prudent ; distrust 
Feodor Stepline much more than his father!” 

“ I will do all you tell me, Nadia,” responded the 
Prince, with truly touching submission ; “ but may I be 
hanged if I understand what you mean! However, I 
will be prudent all the same, but it is simply to obey 
you” 

Feodor was married a week afterwards. The wedding 
was sumptuous, at least after the fashion of the weddings 
of the social class to which he belonged, the luxury of 
which had nothing either of refinement or elegance 
about it. The day before the marriage, the fiancee, who 
had returned to her parents’ dwelling, was conducted to 
the bath-house of her village, reserved for women, with 
all the prescribed pomp ; a swarm of young girls accom- 
panied her, singing as they went, and entered with her 
into the sweating-room, where she was soaped, rubbed, 
curried copiously with linden bark in the guise of a 
sponge, and with birch rods yet garnished with their 
leaves, to finish the ceremony. After this a collation 
was served to the young girls, still in the sweating-room, 


102 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


and there, amid a heat of thirty-five degrees, they sang 
songs and danced for several hours. When the fiancee 
left the sweating-room she was as red and shining as a 
bit of freshly-varnished mahogany. 

On his side Feodor had undergone the same treatment 
at the men’s bath-house, where the refreshments had 
consisted rather of spirits than solids; during this time 
carts, drawn by the largest number of horses that could 
be harnessed to them, had deposited in a dwelling long 
since prepared, but that had never yet been tenanted, the 
trousseau and furniture of the future bride. The pieces 
of furniture, more massive than elegant, were ranged in 
the two rooms of which the dwelling was composed, 
following an order always the same in every house; a 
triangular cupboard, called kiote, specially reserved for 
the holy images, was placed in the consecrated corner, 
garnished merely with a very small image, destined to 
sanctify the dwelling while awaiting the others that were 
to come only with the bride herself. The wooden chests, 
painted and ornamented with red and yellow flowers, 
were carried into the back chamber; they contained the 
linen and garments of the young girl and were to serve 
as clothes-presses all her life, European furniture not yet 
having at that epoch any access to the houses of the 
Bussian peasants. 

The next day the young men, friends or comrades of 
the expectant bridegroom, formed a grand cortege, com- 
posed of as many tel&gues (carts) as they could get 
together, and went early in the morning to find the bride 
in her village. The journey was long; they did not 
return until afternoon. As soon as the bells of their 
beribboned troikas were heard in the distance the bells 
of the church pealed forth, for it was to be a very 
brilliant wedding, and the bridegroom repaired to the 
church, there to await the young girl who in a few 


RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


103 


instants would be his wife. She entered almost 
immediately, while the horses, covered with sweat, 
filed away slowly before the porch, and the choristers, 
who had greeted the arrival of Feodor with an anthem, 
sang a chant of welcome. The young girl’s father 
led her to her future husband, in front of a pulpit 
covered with embroidered cloth, where they both stood, 
silent and motionless. The priest, escorted by the 
deacon, then emerged from the tabernacle and the cere- 
mony commenced. The bride and groom each received 
a lighted wax candle, decked with white roses, orange 
blossoms and bows of white ribbon, that, after having 
burned during the ceremony, were to be piously preserved 
and lighted no more, save on very solemn occasions of 
the family life, such as births, deaths or grave perils, and 
the irrevocable yes was exchanged, after which a piece 
of pink satin was stretched out before the youthful 
couple ; all the young girls present craned their necks to 
see if the newly-made wife succeeded in first placing her 
foot upon it, for that would be for her the omen of an 
uncontested authority in the house of her husband; but 
Feodor had already crushed with his boot the as yet only 
partially unfolded corner of the satin. He was resolved 
to have no other master than himself in his own dwelling. 
The young wife sadly hung her head, ready to weep; 
the rings were handed to the wedded pair and passed on 
their fingers, then exchanged ; their candles, that had 
been taken from their hands to facilitate this operation, 
were restored to them, and the groomsmen, summoned to 
lend their aid, received from the priest the two heavy 
crowns of gilded metal, ornamented with holy images in 
enameled porcelain, that it was their duty to hold above 
the heads of the young couple. The latter drank three 
times, turn by turn, from the same cup the blessed wine 
that represents life ; then the priest, joining their hands 


104 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING 


beneath the skirt of his stole, caused them also to pass 
three times around the pulpit that bore the holy books. 
During this time, the groomsmen had followed the pair, 
holding the crowns above their heads, as is done for 
people favored by fortune, for the poor are sufficiently 
robust to bear the weight of these heavy ornaments of 
metal, while the rich would feel themselves incom- 
moded by such uncomfortable burdens. 

The ceremony was drawing to its close; the priest 
addressed a brief exhortation to those who had just 
sworn to share together the pains and the joys of life T 
exactly as if they loved each other, and, finally, he 
directed them to kiss each other that the Church might 
consecrate that first kiss by her presence. They obeyed, 
the young wife with passive indifference, Feodor Stepline 
with a sort of swagger. Nadia and her father had been 
forced to be present at this ceremony, otherwise the 
whole district would have believed the superintendent 
fallen into disgrace. Together they approached the 
husband and wife, who had just made their devotions to 
the images placed upon the iconostase, and politely con- 
gratulated them ; Nadia drew from her finger a ring 
ornamented with a diamond and presented it to the 
young wife, who blushed with pleasure; then the crowd 
opened to make a passage for the bride and groom, who 
on foot regained their domicile, whither had preceded 
them a little lad chosen by the family, who carried before 
them a holy image, destined to recall to them while at 
prayer the remembrance of this day. 

Feodor Stepline had shown himself impassible during 
the ceremony. He passed before the crowd with uplifted 
head, leading, as if she were the most beautiful of 
created beings, his young wife ridiculously bundled in 
light-hued garments. He maintained the same sang- 
froid on the porch of the church and in the public 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


105 


square; but, at that moment, Nadia, who was crossing 
the cemetery on the arm of the Prince to return to the 
chateau by the shortest route, encountered the glance of 
the newly married man, who followed her with a fero- 
cious expression. Instinctively she clung closer to her 
father. 

“ What ails you? ” asked the latter. “Are you shiver- 
ing ? ” , 

“Yes, father, but it is nothing.” 

And she spoke of something else. 

After this event, that was for a long while the talk of 
the village and neighborhood, the most perfect calmness 
reigned at the chateau; for two months the letters of 
Dmitri Korzof arrived regularly twice a week, telling, 
despite the season, that did not in the least favor serious 
studies, of work without ceasing and ardent researches. 
Nadia replied, recounting her life, hoping in the future, 
speaking of the three years, scarcely begun, that separated 
them from their reunion, as of a day that would soon be 
over. 

Suddenly, a circumstance without precedent occurred ; 
one morning the post brought no letter from Korzof. 

“ It’s a simple delay,” said Boubine ; “ he missed the 
mail.” 

“Doubtless,” answered the young girl, without ‘relax- 
ing her painfully contracted features. 

She went that day into the gardens as usual, visited 
the stables, the cattle stalls and the bams, assured her- 
self, alone or accompanied by her father, that the accus- 
tomed order reigned everywhere; then she returned to 
the mansion and sat down at the piano; but in vain the 
sounds awoke beneath her fingers, the music whirled 
before her eyes — she played mechanically, without seeing 
and without hearing. When evening came on, she 
remained for a long time seated at her closed window, 


106 


A RUSSIAN WEDDING. 


gazing at the little lake that sparkled at the foot of the 
flower-garden. The night was cold, for October was 
approaching, but the stoves, heated during the day, 
spread an equal and gentle warmth throughout the entire 
mansion ; the moon shone upon the pond with a metallic 
and almost cruel brightness that made Nadia feel badly. 
She turned away softly and took up a book. “I will 
get my letter to-morrow,” said she to herself. But if 
her eyes could be constrained to run over the pages, her 
mind could not be forced to comprehend them. She 
retired to bed, hoping that slumber would lead her 
quietly to the next day; she had great trouble in getting 
to sleep, and her rest was broken by uneasy dreams. 

The next day the post brought a quantity of letters 
that Nadia scattered with a single movement over the 
broad table ; Korzof s chirography was still absent. She 
raised her eyes toward her father, and the commonplace 
consolation that arose to his lips was instantly checked 
at the sight of the deep care that was already imprinted 
upon his daughter’s features. 

“To-morrow,” said he. 

And he quitted the room, finding nothing to add. 

On the morrow it was the same, and on two other days 
besides; the hope for an instant caressed that a letter 
might have gone astray was destroyed by the prolonga- 
tion of this silence; a single letter may be lost — but two! 
On the evening of the eighth day, when the third letter 
should have arrived, Nadia, after having poured out a 
cup of coffee for her father, as was her daily custom, 
placed her hand upon his arm, with the pretty gesture 
that was familiar to him, marked this time by mute 
grief and unspeakable lassitude. 

“Father,” said she, “Dmitri is ill — perhaps dead ! Let 
us go to him ! ” 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


107 


CHAPTER YI. 

INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 

Roubine and his daughter reached Paris one sad 
October evening ; the rain beat against the windows of 
their carriage and the rare passers-by, who were hasten- 
ing over the sidewalks with umbrellas, along the closed 
shops, beneath the wavering glimmer of the street- 
lamps, had the air of fleeing before some unseen 
enemy. 

Since their departure from Russia, the Prince had 
been unable to obtain any reply either to his letters or his 
telegrams; hence the anxiety of the travelers, constantly 
growing, had arrived at fever heat. Roubine had, at least, 
the resource, all through Germany, of showering his ill- 
humor upon the employes, upon the restaurants where 
nothing is eatable, upon the inevitable delays and upon 
the bad weather; but Nadia, plunged in her corner, 
silent, her eyes fixed upon some invisible object, always 
gentle, foreseeing, always ready to smile if her- father 
looked at her, was for him a most painful sight. 

“ Get into a good fit of anger once ! ” cried he, between 
Berlin and Cologne. 

“For what would that serve, father?” responded she, 
smiling sadly. 

They arrived at last; a few turns of the wheel alone 
separated them from the hotel where they would get 
news of Korzof; the distance was soon traversed. 
Roubine got out of the carriage first and offered his 
hand to his daughter. 


108 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


“M. Korzof?” demanded he of the servant, who was 
awaiting orders. 

“ This is the place, monsieur; he is very ill.” 

“What is the matter with him?” 

“ A sort of brain fever. We have taken good care of 
him, monsieur. Has monsieur come to see him ? ” 

“Parbleu!” growled Koubine; “you don’t imagine 
that I spent five days and five nights on a railway train 
to see you, do you? Announce the Prince Koubine.” 

“Oh I” said the servant, seized with respect, “there is 
no need to announce your Highness. M. Korzof under- 
stands nothing at all. May it please your Highness to 
take the trouble to pass this way ? ” 

“Good,” said Koubine; “Nadia, go into the salon and 
wait for me.” 

“ Why, father ?” said she, in her tranquil voice. “I 
will go with you.” 

Koubine made no answer, but went on before. They 
entered a spacious chamber, well-lighted by two large 
windows; a sister of charity standing near the mantle- 
piece was preparing a potion; at the back of the apart- 
ment, in a bed, the curtains of which had been raised as 
high as possible and fastened with pins, Korzof, his hair 
and beard shaved close, his eyes glittering and uncertain, 
was rolling his head back and forth upon the pillow, at 
the same time speaking low and quickly. The Prince 
hastened to the bed and took in his hands the burning 
hand that lay upon the coverlet. 

“My poor child,” said he, “my dear Dmitri, do you 
recognize me, say!” 

The sick man looked at him without seeing him, then 
recommenced talking to himself. Koubine drew back a 
step, frightened. Nadia approached and gently took the 
hand he dropped. Korzof gave a start and stared at 
her. He did not see her yet ; but behind the veil of con- 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


109 


fused thoughts that obscured his brain he vaguely per- 
ceived the resemblance to his beloved image. The sister 
of charity approached and spoke to him. He was 
accustomed to her face and voice, and almost always 
recognized her. 

“Some one has come to see you,” said she ; “do you 
know who?” 

“ Ho,” said Korzof, passing his other hand across his 
eyes; his fingers firmly held those of Nadia, but he was 
scarcely conscious of it. “ Who has come? ” 

The sister interrogated the young girl with a look. 

“Nadia,” said the latter, softly. 

“Nadia?” repeated Dmitri, with an anxious expres- 
sion. “Yes; but, this time, she must not go away 
again.” 

The young girl made a movement with her head ; a 
chair was brought to her; she allowed her traveling coat 
to be removed and remained seated beside the bed, 
without quitting the sick man’s hand. In about a quar- 
ter of an hour the latter unclasped his fingers and sank 
into a deep slumber. The sister noted the temperature 
of his body that had sensibly diminished. 

“ It was, without doubt, you upon whom he called,” 
said she, modestly, to Roubine. “lie has never ceased 
to ask for you, but we were unable to procure your 
address ” 

She pointed to the little heap formed upon the desk 
bv the letters and telegrams that had been accumulating 
for two weeks. The Prince shrugged his shoulders and 
led away his daughter that she might take a little food. 

When the physician made his visit, he exhibited 
satisfaction. Though Korzof’s brain was sadly troubled, 
he was, nevertheless, vaguely conscious of the presence 
around him of beloved beings. One of the most dis< 
tressing things for a sick man, in the great convulsions 


110 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


of human health, is the impression that he is abandoned 
and that no one thinks of him. The particular circum- 
stances in which the young man found himself inclined 
him to suffer more than any other from such abandon- 
ment. When he comprehended that Nadia bent over 
him, spoke to him, encouraged him many times during 
the day, he felt happy and consoled, without seeking to 
discover by what mysterious means his friends, left in 
Russia, were now beside him. Little by little his brain 
cleared, not without sudden and disquieting relapses; 
but Korzof’s strong constitution obtained the mastery, 
and, one fine morning, sitting up in his bed, amid a 
whole legion of pillows, he learned the history of the 
journey, that now appeared something fantastic and im- 
probable to all three of them. 

A profound joy filled Dmitri’s heart. If, sometimes, 
on recalling Nadia’s refusal, with that need of torment- 
ing himself and of causing himself to suffer that is the 
rule with men, he had asked himself to what point the 
young girl had believed herself to be fulfilling a duty in 
accepting him for her husband, at present he felt reas- 
sured; the serious and devoted tenderness of his be- 
trothed was exactly what he had expected of her; it was 
enough to fill his life with happiness and noble satisfac- 
tion; whatever he should wish, whatever he should 
attempt, they would wish it together and accomplish it 
of a common accord. In the eyes of Nadia herself 
Korzof had for the future received the baptism of toil ; 
he was worthy of taking part in the great work of com- 
passion and fraternity. 

To complete the cure of the convalescent the south 
was ordered ; they all three departed, as gay as school 
children on a vacation. Vainly had the young man 
striven to talk of the time he had lost, of that he was 
about to lose; Roubine could not be induced to hear 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


Ill 


anything on the subject. To tell the truth he had never 
fully accepted the idea of seeing his son-in-law become a 
physician. As for the hospital, that was a fancy like 
many another; but what was the good to cram one’s 
mind with incongruous things when it was so easy to let 
others learn them, others specially created for the pur- 
pose by a Providence that had evidently designed to 
make savans of them, since it had neglected to give 
them fortunes that would permit them to live without 
doing anything! 

Nadia had made peace between them by exacting, in 
accord with the physician, two more months of complete 
rest before there could be a question of resuming study ; 
these two months were a veritable fete for the three 
friends. The mildness of the climate, the beauty of the 
sun, the easy softening of convalescents that gives them 
so many delicious little emotions, lent an extraordinary 
charm to their sojourn in this beautiful district. 

“It is another summer thrown into the bargain!” 
said Roubine, delighted at seeing himself out of doors 
in the month of January without furs and even without 
a paletot. 

But the Prince was a restless being, who tired quickly, 
at least if his home did not retain him by a thousand close 
bonds; he had a horror of hotels, a horror of seaside 
towns and of the society encountered there. 

“But, father, you constitute a part of this society! 
Suppose the people you meet and whom you rail so furi- 
ously against said the same things of you, what would 
you think of that ? ” laughingly exclaimed Nadia one 
day. 

“I ? Parbleu! I would think they were right! One 
cannot cut a more foolish figure than in wandering thus 
away from home, like lost cattle that don’t know how to 
find their way back to their pasture-field ! ” 


112 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


“ Then, you long to return to the sheepfold in dear St. 
Petersburg, far from which you cannot live? ” 

“ Certainly 1 In the first place, habits are the half of 
life; I don’t say the best half, but, sure as fate — ” 

“It is the most inconvenient one ! ” hazarded Dmitri, 
who dearly loved to tease his future father-in-law. They 
all three burst out laughing. “And yet that don’t fill 
you with remorse at leaving me behind you like a poor 
bundle forgotten in a railway depot, eh ? ” 

Nadia cast a glance at her betrothed, still so thin and 
so pale. She had felt for some time past that her father 
was weary of this shifting camp life, and yet she could 
not bear the thought of leaving Dmitri alone, absorbed 
in his dry tasks, without amusements ; for he found, if 
he amused himself out of doors, that he could no longer 
bring to study a free enough mind. 

“ Why the deuce do you want to be a doctor? ” cried 
Roubine. “You are a Count, that’s sufficient for me! 
But it is mademoiselle who is never satisfied ! ” 

He looked at his daughter with an expression half- 
scolding, half-tender. Nadia thought the moment favor- 
able for entering upon a very delicate chapter that she 
had not yet dared to begin. 

“Father,” said she, “I really think that it is urgent 
for you to return to St. Petersburg I ” 

“ Well, and you? ” 

“Oh, it isn’t so urgent for me to go! The hospital 
will get on very well without me; besides, you know 
the works perfectly; you are as thoroughly skilled in 
them as a contractor!” 

“That’s not exact,” growled the Prince, charmed 
nevertheless; “but I don’t understand.” 

“ You will return to St. Petersburg, where the mansion 
is ready to receive you; they have put down the carpets, 
nailed up the hangings, and done everything required; 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


113 


you will be happy there, like a bird that has recovered 
its nest, and then the English Club — ” 

“Nadia, don’t make fun of me; explain yourself 
immediately.” 

She approached her father with a cajoling look, 
against which he was without resources. 

“As for me,” said she, “during that time I will remain 
in Paris with my husband.” 

Dmitri made a bound and seized the young girl’s 
hand: Roubine, as he fixed his eyes upon his daughter, 
saw two faces instead of one that implored him in a way 
to soften stones. 

“ Well, what an ideal ” cried he, “to get married in a 
foreign land, without a trousseau, without the family — 
and then that other idea! — to get rid of me, to send me 
home! I can well believe that you will not be wearied 
in each other’s society; but, think of me, all alone by 
myself! ” 

“ Father,” said Nadia, with her pretty, half-bantering 
smile, “ you dine in the city three times a week! ” 

“ Yes,” .rejoined Roubine, “ but I always breakfast at 
home. Come, now, Nadia, this is a joke! ” 

“ My dear father, if you order me to follow you I will 
obey, as you are well aware, but it will give me pain to 
do so.” 

“ It won’t give you pain then to let me set out alone?” 

The young girl’s eyes filled with tears. 

“You well know the contrary, father; but what pre- 
vents you from passing the summers with us, in France 
or in Germany? And, besides, we will come to see you 
in the country; not at St. Petersburg, eh, Dmitri? We 
shall not go to St. Petersburg until the hospital is 
finished.” 

At this proposition Roubine broke out, grew furious, 
declared that this marriage had always been treated in a 
7 


114 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


ridiculous fashion, that his daughter wished to render it 
more ridiculous still, and that, since she had lost her 
wits, he preferred to entirely withdraw the consent he 
had been weak enough to give. Everybody might go to 
the deuce, but he did not intend to be made a laughing- 
stock of. 

“ Then,” said Korzof, who had preserved his sang-froid 
throughout this storm, “ you don’t want to be my father- 
in-law?” 

Roubine burst out laughing. Nadia, who was weeping, 
did the same. They embraced each other. Roubine 
seated himself again, for he had arisen to gesticulate 
more at his ease, and they finished where they should 
have commenced; but if people always commenced at 
that point it would be too simple! They went into an 
explanation. The Prince listened to the reasons his 
daughter gave him, agreed with her that Korzof had 
committed no crime that deserved an exile of three 
years, that exile was reduced six months, and the result 
was an arrangement that the marriage should take place 
in Paris the day after their return thither, that is to say, 
at the expiration of two weeks. 

It took place accordingly, but not as Roubine and 
perhaps Nadia herself had dreamed, amid all the splendor 
of luxury and high position. In the play of her imag- 
ination she had pictured to herself this sumptuous mar- 
riage in the chapel of their hospital, inaugurated that 
very day, amid all that the court and the city offered of 
the greatest brilliancy; she had loved to depict to her- 
self the pomp of such a ceremony, much like a taking 
of the veil, a definitive adieu to her past life of an idle 
Princess, a triumphal entry into her modest existence as 
“the doctor’s wife.” The realities of life, less poetic, 
sometimes poignant, had shattered this dream, the wrecks 
of which Nadia now trampled beneath her feet with joy. 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


115 


What mattered the renouncing of this somewhat theat- 
rical splendor, if she undertook the task, truly worthy of 
her and of him, of sustaining her husband in his fre- 
quently toilsome studies? It is good for a woman’s 
pride to make a gift of herself the recompense of long 
efforts! There is in it something well-calculated to 
flatter a young girl’s self-love. But is it not more simple 
and more touching to share the pains and the fatigues 
that one imposes, from that time growing up to the role 
of companion and friend, instead of shutting up one’s 
self in the cold dignity of a sovereign who condescends? 

These reflections were Nadia’s first step in a new path. 
Until then she had scanned her own personality only 
with regard to herself; obliged to scan it with regard to 
others, she perceived that too narrow principles threat- 
ened to split, like garments, when they found themselves 
in disaccord with events. She realized particularly the 
depth of the feeling with which she had inspired Korzof, 
and, instead of going to him with a smile of a queen who 
rewards, she leaned against her husband’s heart with the 
tender confidence of a wife who knows the grandeur of 
the sacrifice she has prompted. 

No toilet splendors, no princely trousseau. The 
friends the betrothed couple counted in the Russian 
colony in Paris were present at the ceremony and the 
lunch that followed; then Roubine departed the same 
evening for St. Petersburg, and the young married pair 
remained in a pretty little suite of furnished apart- 
ments arranged for them not far from the School of 
Mediciue. Nadia preferred to renounce from time to 
time a promenade in the Bois de Boulogne to obliging 
her husband to make a long journey daily to regain a 
dwelling situated in a brilliant quarter. Roubine on 
departing had left a carriage and a pair of hordes for his 
daughter, who had never known what it was to go on 


116 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


foot, except in the country and for pleasure. At the 
expiration of the first month Nadia dismissed this 
supplement of embarrassment, as she styled the vehicle 
and animals, and her greatest delight was to make her 
journeys in a fiacre. One day she even had the audacity 
to show herself thus around the Lake at the elegant hour, 
and the dismayed looks her appearance caused among 
those who recognized her for a long time furnished 
matter for her hilarity. 

“Just think now, Dmitri,” said she, laughing, “they 
are asking themselves whether they ought to bow to us 
or not!” 

Their apartments were pleasantly exposed to the sun; 
Dmitri could not encumber them with books sufficient 
to prevent his wife in her turn from encumbering them 
with flowers: the time they spent there was certainly the 
happiest of their lives. 

Roubine could not remain long away from his daughter; 
at the commencement of spring he returned to Paris, 
and as soon as the School of Medicine was closed he 
carried away the young couple, or rather followed them 
wherever Korzof ’s studies and preoccupations took them. 
They traveled thus for two years, now all three together, 
then separated from the Prince, and, despite their desire 
to assume a definitive position in life, the time appeared 
short to them. 

Nadia played the mistress of a modest house in a mar- 
velous fashion. Her father laughed until the tears came 
when he saw her return from market with strawberries 
in a basket — she who had never drawn money from her 
purse save to bestow alms. She let him laugh, herself 
arranged the fruit upon a dish surrounded with grape 
leaves, and the Prince, enchanted, declared that he had 
never tasted anything so excellent. The young wife 
learned in her daily relations with men and things of a 


‘ INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL'. 117 

humble cast many precepts unsuitable to the wisdom of 
society people, and not to be found in books destined for 
the youthful, although there is their proper place. 

The moment finally came for Korzof to pass his gradu- 
ating examination; he was full of fears, and Nadia 
trembled as if her husband were beneath the shadow of 
a death-sentence. The Prince had arrived in order to be 
present at the triumph of his son-in-law, and he was not 
slow in cracking jokes in regard to the emotion of his 
two children. 

“Come, Dmitri,” said he, “be a man! Haven’t you 
passed examinations before? Remember the book of 
answers ! You found no trouble at that time in tricking 
your examiners and getting good marks all the same!” 

“The cases are not in any way parallel,” answered the 
young man, laughing at this fashion of looking at an 
examination for a doctor’s degree. “If I cheated my 
examiners, and that seems to me more than doubtful, it is 
I who would be the most cheated of all.” 

“ No,” said Nadia, “the most cheated would be your 
patients! ” 

They laughed, but it was to make stout heart against 
fortune. At last the great day arrived, and Korzof was 
not only made a physician, but also received unanimous 
congratulations. 

“I feel myself a man !” said he, when he had returned 
home; “never before did I experience a similar feeling; 
that is to say, I ask myself how one could live without 
toiling, without feeling that he will be useful. What a 
wretched life the idle drag out!” 

“That’s all very well, son-in-law,” said Roubine, “but 
if you don’t want any of it don’t disgust others with it; 
I have always led the wretched life in question, and 1 
don’t feel any the worse for it. Come, Nadia, let’s all go 
dine at a restaurant; I invite you; we will wash his 


118 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


brains with, champagne; that, perhaps, will stop him 
from saying such stupid things ! ” 

Nadia quitted them to put on her hat, but her husband 
immediately rejoined her. 

“K is to you that I owe this happiness, my dear wife,” 
said he, taking her in his arms. “It is you who have 
made of me an intelligent man, desirous of serving his 
kind. I thank and bless you!” 

“It is I who owe gratitude to you,” she answered, in a 
low tone. “You have made me descend from my chi- 
merical Paradise to teach me the realities of life. Oh! 
my dear husband, how much good we are going to do! 
A single terror has haunted me for some time past.” 

“Name it at once, that I may reassure you,” said 
Dmitri, smiling. 

“ I have often asked myself if I have not done wrong 
in thrusting you into a dangerous profession; if some 
epidemic should break out, Dmitri, if you were attacked, 
if you were stricken ! ” 

Korzof remained silent for an instant, pressing against 
his bosom the head of his dear wife whom he loved 
above everything, and for whom he represented all the 
joys of life. 

“That would be very hard,” said he, at length, “but 
such things happen. Still, whatever may be my fate, to- 
day, in strength and joy, as, later, in misfortune and 
tears, if it must come to that, for what you have made 
of me, Nadia, I repeat that I bless and thank you. And 
if I should die one day upon the field of honor — well, 
you will be proud of me!” 

He kissed her tenderly, and, when they reappeared 
before Roubine, the latter could never have suspected 
the grave question they had just been considering. 

Many formalities remained to be seen to; but, whether 
one be impatient or not, the days have not for that a 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


119 


half hour less. The young couple were ready to return 
to Russia; the hospital was not ready to receive them. 
Roubine set out in advance of them to hasten the dila- 
tory, and, after a long wait that appeared interminable 
to the young people, for they had holiday and wereRored 
almost to death by their new idleness, he at la;t tele- 
graphed them that they could start for home. 

When the train that bore them slackened its speed to 
enter the depot of St. Petersburg, Nadia turned toward 
her husband, in the reserved compartment they occupied 
alone. 

“We are about to touch our dream with our fingers,’* 
said she, “and now I am afraid!’* 

“Afraid of what, dearest?” 

“I don’t know — some disillusion, perhaps!’* 

He took her hand with tenderness. 

“There is no disillusion possible,” said he, “when one 
has dreamed of effecting a possible good. Whether the 
hospital be or be not what we have desired, we will cure 
suffering creatures there, and that will console us for 
everything.” 

The train stopped; Roubine was upon the platform, 
waiting for them all alone; he embraced them and 
sprang into his drochki, that sped away like the wind; 
the new arrivals entered their coupe and were rapidly 
borne towards the quarter, formerly shunned, that they 
would for the future inhabit. They spoke not a word, 
but held each other’s hand with a strong clasp; this 
moment of their existence seemed to them still more 
solemn than the hour of their marriage. They were 
very near now; the coupd turned the corner of a street. 

“Oh! Dmitri ! ” said Nadia, almost in a whisper, “there 
it is!” 

The hospital loomed up before them in its architectural 
splendor, surmounted by a tall gilded cross that indicated 


120 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


in the center of the building the place of the chapel. 
The corners and the entablatures were of white stone; 
the walls were built of brick, and the lofty fa5ade, four 
stories in height, stood proudly out against the sky. 
They had studied the plans and knew them by heart; 
but never had they pictured to themselves this imposing 
mass that represented a colossal fortune; all the gold of 
the Korzofs was in it, and never before on earth had it 
been so nobly employed. 

The horses were brought to a stop in front of the 
steps. Roubine, with uncovered head, was already wait- 
ing upon the threshold; the chaplain, clad in sacerdotal 
vestments and accompanied by the cross, stood on the 
porch; the young couple silently advanced, a prey to an 
emotion that almost stopped their respiration; the cross- 
bearer slowly began his march, entered the broad vesti- 
bule, illuminated from above whence the light fell in 
floods, and commenced to ascend the stairway. The 
vestibule was full of people ; every head bowed as the 
young couple passed along; they mechanically returned 
the salutations, but recognized no one. Mysterious 
voices were somewhere singing a religious hymn, the 
words of which they could not distinguish. They thus 
reached the second floor and made their way into the 
chapel. It was simple and plain; the paintings of the 
iconostase were its sole adornment; but the holy images 
of the two united families sparkled with gold and pre- 
cious stones along the walls, garnished with lamps. 

The choristers received them with a triumphal chant, 
and they still remained mute, still holding each other by 
the hand, before the doors of the chancel. These opened 
almost immediately and the priest appeared. The Te 
Deum of actions of grace was chanted. During this time 
the young couple recovered a trifle from their emotion. 
When the last stanza had. resounded beneath the vaults 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


121 


and those present had kissed the cross offered to them 
by the priest, Nadia at length saw around her beloved 
and well-known faces. The chapel was full of her 
friends; all those who had not been able to be present at 
her marriage had come to compliment her. The digni- 
taries of the State, convoked for the inauguration of the 
hospital, surrounded her husband; an aide-de-camp 
brought them the congratulations of the Emperor and 
Empress; bouquets were presented by little children, 
though Nadia had not the remotest idea what that 
ceremony meant, and, finally, she mechanically followed 
her father and the architect, who delivered to the .young 
couple the keys of the hospital. Leaning upon her' 
husband’s arm, altogether bewildered, the youthful wife 
walked along the waxed corridors that yet retained the 
odor of new fir wood, approving details about which she 
did not understand a single thing, and feeling at the 
bottom of her overflowing heart the strange lack of 
something, she could not tell what. 

Suddenly the physician second in command advanced 
in his turn and opened a door. 

“There they are!” said Nadia, in a whisper. 

They were those for whom she had been looking, 
whom she wanted, the masters of this establishment — 
the patients! They were there, lying in their white 
beds, watched over by neat female nurses; snowy linen 
shone everywhere, and the common faience sparkled 
with cleanliness upon the shelves. They were real 
patients, who would be cured, who would return to their 
families, blessing the hand that had restored their health! 
Nadia could not maintain her calmness at the thought, 
and, leaning her head upon her husband’s shoulder, she 
wept. 

The dream was realized; a few millions of roubles 
were about to restore to hundreds of men and women 


122 


INAUGURATION OF THE HOSPITAL. 


their health and happiness; with their wealth they were 
about to redeem that priceless jewel — human life. 
Without doubt they would fail occasionally; death 
would not always allow itself to be cheated ; poor coffins 
would be carried from the rear door, bearing away beings 
for whom succor had come too late; but life is thus made 
up of joys and troubles; ought they not to consider 
themselves sufficiently happy if they could save, at the 
cost of all their fortune, a father for his children, a wife 
for her husband ? 

“ It is too beautiful, too good ! I cannot bear it ! ” 
exclaimed Nadia when, at' last restored to herself, she 
sat down in the fauteuil in the apartment her father had 
prepared for her with a degree of care she would have 
found fault with had she dared. “I indeed thought I 
would be happy on seeing all this, but my joy surpasses 
my fondest hopes!” 

“Remember it, my daughter,” said Roubine, suddenly 
growing grave. “One has not often in life a chance 
to make use of such an expression. May this day be for 
you such a souvenir that it will serve to console you in 
your hours of trouble.” 

Nadia seized the hand he had placed upon her bowed 
head and raised it to her lips. This father, so frivolous 
in appearance, was at bottom a big-hearted man. 

“But,” resumed she, after an instant, when she and her 
husband had thanked the Prince for having prepared for 
them so agreeable a surprise, “you must have gone to 
enormous trouble, my dear father!” 

“Enormous!” repeated he, gravely; “I commence to 
know myself a little, however; but you could never guess 
what cost me the greatest trouble to find. I could not 
procure them either for gold or silver.” 

His children stared at him with an air of such surprise 
that he had not the courage to keep them in suspense. 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


123 


“The patients!” resumed he, losing his seriousness; 
“yes, you need not look so aghast as that — the patients! 
I was obliged to go and entice them myself from the 
other hospitals and to take those who had been refused 
elsewhere. I did not pick them out; oh, no! You have 
a very queer collection, I tell you! And, besides, they 
did not wish to enter. Those who could speak said the 
place was too clean — that it could not be a hospital. I 
convinced them by assuring them that it would not 
long remain so clean, and that they must excuse a 
new edifice.” 

The excellent man laughed, but his eves were full of 
tears. Nadia dried them with a kiss. The hospital was 
inaugurated. Korzof and his wife had now only to toil. 
They fell asleep that night with their souls filled with 
benedictions. 


: o 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 

When an edifice has been erected, when a roof covers 
it, even when it is inhabited, all is not yet finished, in 
spite of that. Two whole years elapsed before Korzof 
and his wife had organized all the interior arrangements 
and, especially, made a useful and valuable code of laws. 
This unfortunate code, resembling in this all the codes 
of the world, for that matter, could not be so framed as 
to be adapted either to persons or things. No sooner 
did it operate well in one direction than some enormous, 
formidable obstacle was discovered in another } and all 


124 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


was to be begun over again. The fact is that one cannot 
become an organizer at an instant’s notice; the smallest 
plan of organization, however mediocre it may be, has 
demanded long meditations, and more than once its 
author has taken his head in his hands and said: “It 
will never work!” In fact, generally, it does not! 

But Korzof was gifted with a firm will ; besides, he 
had no foolish self-love and freely sought advice; at the 
same time he possessed sufficient judgment to take only 
that which was good. Ultimately, by the exercise of 
inexhaustible patience, he accomplished his ends; the 
day came when the real code, definitive and unchange- 
able — until further orders — was enthroned upon all the 
walls, printed on large sheets of paper and framed in 
black wood. 

The young and brilliant officer of other days had given 
place to the serious and good man whom people styled 
Doctor Korzof. Despite the reiterated supplications of 
a large number of the members of the St. Petersburg 
aristocracy, who would have been delighted to have had 
for their physician one of their own class, an amiable 
society man, he had positively refused to make himself 
a clientele outside the hospital. At most, in case of 
accidents, he consented to bestow the first cares, but only 
under the express condition that his services should be 
gratuitous. The patients in the hospital, now nearly 
three hundred in number, sufficed to occupy his time; 
besides, he had been compelled to take several assistants 
and procure the aid of a famous surgeon. 

The first time the young physician found himself in 
the presence of a man who awaited life or death at his 
hands, a poor, thoughtless being, broken down by suffer- 
ing, indifferent for the future to everything, save a breath 
of comfort that would relieve him; the first time that, 
after having recognized the gravity of the case before 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


125 


his eyes, he saw himself obliged to draw upon the 
resources of his memory, of his reason, of his science, 
and to write a prescription, he felt himself tremble from 
head to foot. What if he were to make a mistake! 
What if death came at his order, instead of health! To 
what point would he be responsible if they bore away on 
the morrow the corpse of that man, slain by him — or 
simply allowed to die by the fault of his ignorance or of 
his error? 

The physician second in command, an old practitioner 
with grayish locks, looked at him in surprise, asking 
himself why his young chief hesitated in that way. He 
did not turn the pen so long in his inkstand to write a 
prescription! Finally, Korzof made his decision and in 
his beautiful, rapid chirography traced a few lines. As 
he was about handing the paper to the resident medical 
student on duty, he addressed the old doctor : 

“ What would you have prescribed? ” asked he. 

The physician mentioned a mode of treatment. Kor- 
zof, with a partial smile, showed him the prescription. 

• “It is exactly in accordance with my opinion,” said 
the aged practitioner; “but I should not have thought 
of the bath you order; evidently that can only do good.” 

“It is the new system,” said Korzof; “they do not 
employ it here, but they will come to it.” 

The treatment succeeded. Five days later the patient, 
sitting up in his bed, ate a light soup. Korzof sought 
out his wife and brought her into the presence of the 
man. 

“Look there,” said he; “do you see? — he is alive! 
Nadia, I have prevented a man from dying!” 

They went away softly, without touching each other, 
without speaking, full of joy too deep to find vent in 
words. 

Every day was not so happy : the first time there was 


126 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


a death at the hospital Nadia passed an entire day in 
tears; by a singular immunity, during two months all 
the attempted cures had succeeded, when an epidemic 
carried off several patients, one after another. This 
circumstance in some sort consoled Korzof and his wife 
by proving to them that the deaths were not due to any 
error in treatment or any neglect of the sanitary laws, 
but to an endemic condition against which they were 
powerless. 

Then they grew accustomed to these fluctuations of 
mortality that had at first made Nadia gloomy. She 
had imagined that no one would ever die at her estab- 
lishment; but between the distant possibility of these 
things and their immediate realization there was a whole 
world. She became habituated to seeing upon the daily 
consulted lists the crosses that marked the fatal termi- 
nations, and merely felt a tender pity for those whom all 
the devotedness of her husband united to her own had 
been unable to save. 

A single thing saddened the young wife: it seemed 
that fate thought her sufficiently occupied with the care 
of so many human beings and would not grant her 
children. Four years had passed since her marriage, 
when she at last had the happiness to see herself the 
mother of a son. The following year she had a daughter; 
from that time she considered her good fortune complete. 
Her children grew beside her, filling with joy and noise 
the lofty and vast rooms of the suite of apartments until 
then a trifle sad, and when Korzof, fatigued or saddened 
by the spectacles of the day, returned in the evening to 
this retreat — well-separated, well-closed, in order that no 
danger of contagion might slip in — he found two flaxen 
heads grouped upon their mother’s bosom, waiting to 
give him simultaneously the kiss of welcome. 

Several years passed by in that way, as perfectly 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


127 


happy as any that can be offered by human life, that is 
never exempt from cares. 

Roubine often came to see them, but never without 
complaining of the distance, for he had kept his patri- 
monial mansion, upon the Quay of the Court. 

“But, father,” observed Nadia, one day, “it was as far 
in the past, and then you never thought of complaining ! 
When they were building the hospital vou came twice 
daily!” 

“It was not so far then, because I was younger!” 
answered Roubine, philosophically; “my bones are 
growing old, do you see! I bought a new eight-spring 
carriage, the other day; well, it don’t seem as comfortable 
as the tel&gues of my youth! Old age is coming on, 
Nadia, and one must get used to it ! At least, it is a 
happy old age, and I cannot complain about it.” 

He kissed his grandchildren, who were leaning upon 
his knees, one on each side, and sent them off to play; 
then he confidentially drew his fauteuil nearer to that of 
his daughter. 

“ I am going to profit by the absence of your husband 
to reproach you, Nadia,” said he, in a kindly tone. “You 
know I never scolded you much in the past, and that 
since your marriage I have not scolded you at all; I, 
however, have room to blame you, but I will mention it 
only to you.” 

“ Mon Dieu! what have I done, my dear father? ” said 
Nadia, stupefied, clasping her hands. 

“I will tell you. You live perfectly happy here with 
your husband and your children; you do the most good 
possible; I even believe, God pardon me! that you grant 
pensions to your patients when they quit the hospital ! ” 

“Not to all, father!” said the young woman, smiling; 
“it has happened two or three — ” 

“ Your crime does not lie in that direction,” interrupted 


128 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


Roubine, also smiling, “since I myself have participated 
in those eccentricities by pensioning one of those who 
escaped you. But you do not perceive, my dear daughter, 
concentrated in your happiness and in your family life, 
that the Countess Korzof no longer goes the least bit 
into society, and that you are permitting yourself to be 
forgotten even by those who have been your best friends. 
Day before yesterday the Princess Adoni'eff was prepa- 
ring a list of invitations for her coming ball. Some one 
mentioned your name. Do you know what she answered ? 
‘Oh! it’s not worth while to invite Nadia; she goes 
nowhere! 1 ” 

“ That’s true, father, but it’s because society no longer 
amuses me. I visit my friends, though I do not attend 
their fetes. Isn’t that better than to leave my pretty 
babies alone? ” 

“ You are in the right; only, in twelve or fifteen years 
from now, when your daughter shall be old enough to be 
married, to whom will you marry her?” 

“Oh, father!” cried Nadia, raising her arms toward 
heaven; “then you long to be a great-grandpapa!” 

“Not the least in the world! But answer my ques- 
tion: to whom will you marry your daughter?” 

“ To the man of her choice,” promptly responded the 
young woman. 

“Well answered. But, tell me, now that you know 
life a little, now that you have seen creatures who 
started at the foot arrive at the top round of the social 
ladder, as you say at present, would you give your 
pretty child, whom you are about to educate superbly, 
to one of those men whose intelligence alone is cultivated, 
but whose customs and habits have remained coarse? I 
saw one of your resident medical students dine at your 
table; he has a great deal of talent, according to my son- 
in-law; I am convinced of it; but he don’t clean his 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


129 


finger nails, that wear perpetual mourning for his good 
manners! Would you like to have that young man or 
any other of the same kind for the husband of your 
delicate Sophie? Would you accept for your daughter- 
in-law a young girl who had the manners of a servant, 
whatever might be her moral merit?” 

Nadia lowered her head, finding no reply to make. 

“You see, my daughter, in the past, when you loudly 
proclaimed your intention of raising up to you a man 
sprung from the ranks of the people, I felt an internal 
rebellion; you thought it was my old patrician blood 
that spoke. Well, no; it was a feeling of dignity, so 
complex that I could not formulate it. The years have 
taught me how to live — yes, my daughter, they have 
taught me also, despite my locks, that were gray then, 
that are white to-day. I know now what inspired in me 
an instinctive repugnance; it was that lack of first educa- 
tion, of the education of infancy, in the course of which 
a mother brought up in the principles of elegance and — 
why should I not say it? — of cleanliness, teaches one 
certain things one does not forget in all time to come, 
things one does mechanically and by which people 
instantly recognize, without the possibility of mistake, 
what is. called a well-bred man. Ah! Nadia, in spite of 
all you can say or do, a man who does not knowhow to 
walk, who does not know how to bow, who has not a 
certain correctness of language and bearing, that man, 
even be he gifted with genius, does not belong to our 
sphere, and you cannot give him your daughter!” 

Nadia reflected, following in her mind her father’s 
arguments. 

“But,” said she, gently, “if he has genius, cannot that 
atone for certain exterior defects?” 

“ That’s what I expected of you, my daughter ! Those 
defects are not purely exterior; if those gentlemen would 

8 


130 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


take the trouble to observe themselves, to watch over 
their manners and their language, they would soon 
obtain an appearance of correctness that would render 
us indulgent toward the rest ; but if they know nothing 
‘ of what a society man ought to know, if they have the 
air of plowmen in black coats, it is because they are 
satisfied to be thus, because their stupid pride makes 
them claim their bad manners as a proof of their origin 
and, consequently, of the distance they have been com- 
pelled to traverse in order to be able to mingle with our 
society. I call their pride foolish, because it has neither 
nobleness nor dignity about it; these two virtues would 
constrain them, on the contrary, to keep such a rank in 
society that everybody would be delighted to grasp their 
hands and would value their conversation ; but they 
persist in posting all over their persons: ‘We were 
nothing, we are somebody; admire the road that we 
have traveled!’ If they dared, they would write it 
upon a streamer floating from their hats! Now, Nadia, 
people have long ridiculed, not without some reason, the 
parvenus of fortune ; I don’t see why they should not 
treat in the same way the parvenus of intelligence! 
And the latter are less excusable than the former, for 
their very intelligence should forearm them against such 

foolishness! And mark well that I do not intend here 

to praise extravagantly the gifts of birth: the Prince 
Mirof, my cousin on his mother’s side, passes his days 
with his jockeys and his nights with English boxers; 
one would take him for a horse jockey himself, so well 
he talks their language. He is a parvenu of nothing at 
all; he has fallen away from everything ! And Prince 
as he is, I hold him in sorry esteem ! But I cannot 
comprehend those who have been able, by dint of toil, to 
make themselves familiar with the most difficult sciences 
and who will not learn puerile and honest civility!” 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


131 


“Evidently, father,” said Nadia, when he paused to 
take breath, “you are right upon all those points; only, 
I believe that in time those of whom you speak will 
recognize the necessity of these exterior forms, more im- 
portant in fact than they appear at first sight.” 

The Prince shook his head. 

“Don’t believe that,” said he; “Russia is undergoing 
at this present moment the reaction of a despotic state 
of things she has long accepted and against which she is 
commencing to rebel. You wished to wed a man with- 
out birth; never will Korzof suspect what he has spared 
you ! But I would not have consented to it, and we would 
have passed years in disaccord, while, thanks to him, to 
his sacrifice, to his grandeur of soul, we have* a happy life, 
with all the guarantees of honor and of the future that 
could be desired. You had that whim; it did not form 
itself all alone in your brain; others besides you have 
had it, but they were not such obstinate demoiselles; 
they have all wedded officers of the guards or attaches 
of the ministry of Foreign Affairs. The young people 
of your age have not escaped these false sentiments of 
equality that bring one down to the level of the person 
one should strive to raise to himself. Already the 
manners are less correct, less severe than formerly.” 

“But formerly they were pushed to exaggeration! ” 

“And now people exaggerate in the opposite sense. 
Know, Nadia, that what already exists in Germany will 
soon rise up in Russia — a class of people, men and 
women, very intelligent, savans even, who will try to 
take by storm our present society, who will cry out 
against good customs as against good manners, and who, 
bj r dint of abolishing superiorities, leveling everything, 
will abolish even the superiority of intelligence, so that, 
by a strange logic peculiar to themselves, each one being 
the equal of everybody, the first idiot who comes along 


132 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


will be the equal of Plato ! And it will be the parvenus 
of intelligence who will have decreed thisl Avoid them 
if you can!” 

“They employ the word equality in two different 
senses — moral equality and equality before the law.” 

“Ta, ta, ta, they don’t go to that extent! They get so 
mixed up in their own ideas that they can no longer see 
clearly, and a hard time he will have who shall extricate 
them — so persistently do they oppose being extricated. 
Have you seen pass along the streets demoiselles clad in 
black, without crinoline, with a band-box or a book 
under their arms, their flattened hair cut short beneath 
their toques and falling behind their ears, with blue 
spectacles that invariably hide their eyes? They are 
the Nihilist demoiselles; at present their folly is con- 
sidered inoffensive and only ridiculous; but a day will 
come, perhaps, when people will be compelled to beware 
of them. One commences by denying the necessity of 
good manners, and one finishes by denying the existence 
of moral sense. Nadia, resume your relations with the 
world, go into society, and marry your daughter to a well- 
bred man, even if he have not genius. Let him respect 
woman, respect his wife; let him neither shock her ears 
with coarse words, nor her modesty with dram-shop 
ways; acting in an opposite fashion will not give him 
genius, for that matter. Try merely to have him possess 
moral sense, for already we have none of it to spare, and, 
at the rate we are going, twenty years hence it will be 
found only in the collections of curiosity hunters ! ” 

Nadia listened pensively, recalling many words that 
had made no impression on her at the time, and of 
which her father’s discourse seemed the echo. 

“You are right,” said she, at last; “I will return to 
society. My indolence must not be prejudicial to my 
children. They are as yet very young, but — ” 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


133 


“But, since it is your intention to give them a liberal 
education, and I don’t blame you for it, seek a counter- 
poise in the frequeutation of an elegant society. You 
will thus correct whatever exaggeration each sphere may 
possess.” ■ 

The Prince seemed to have given his daughter in his 
interview a sort of moral testament; perhaps, in fact, he 
had talked with so much energy and conviction because 
he felt within him something abnormal. A few days 
after this conversation, he took to his bed, and the unflag- 
ging care of his son-in-law was unable to save him. 

“ If it had been possible to cure me, you would have 
done so, would you not ? ” said he to Korzof, in one of 
his last lucid moments. “ At least, we have nothing 
with which to reproach ourselves. Ah ! my son, we 
have been very happy; all is well! Watch over the 
education of your children; make them honest beings 
above everything else, for honest beings are daily becom- 
ing fewer.” 

He died without pain, in a serenity almost gay, such 
as he had maintained throughout his life. His grand- 
children found themselves the possessors of his vast 
fortune, the revenues of which he had directed should 
be allowed to accumulate until their majority. 

“ My daughter having need of nothing,” ran the will, 
“it is my belief that I am conforming to her wishes 
in giving my wealth to my grandson Pierre and my 
granddaughter Sophie, who will thus be enabled to 
remember their grandfather.” 

Koubine was sincerely regretted. He was one of those 
amiable creatures who conceal noble qualities beneath a 
somewhat frivolous envelope, from which circumstance 
the world does not do them much justice until after 
their death. Nadia and her husband perceived more 
than once that their father’s worldly wisdom was lost to 


134 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


them now ; hence they resolved to obey his last wishes 
by seeking again the society in which they had moved 
np to the moment when the preoccupations of their 
great work had drawn them away from it. Their 
mourning made it incumbent upon them to preserve 
their solitude for a time, at least. It was decided that 
Nadia should depart with her children for the domain of 
Smolensk, as it must need looking after, and that Dmitri 
should rejoin them there two months later, at which 
period he took a holiday every year. 

Nadia found great changes. Emancipation had made 
its way to the estate, giving the peasants other rights 
and other duties ; they had not clearly understood either 
and had thought themselves almost aggrieved on seeing 
that they had not been accorded at least half of their 
master’s possessions ; but, amid this conflict of interests, 
they were still tractable enough, thanks to the extreme 
kindness the Prince had always shown them during his 
lifetime. 

Old Stepline was dead ; his son had succeeded him in 
his functions of superintendent. Since his marriage he 
had no longer sought to please, and his toilet had gained 
nothing from that circumstance ; his European coats, for 
he had disdained the caftans worn by his father, came 
from the shop of a cheap German tailor of the nearest 
large town, and had nothing in common with the Eng- 
lish fashions. His wife had grown so fat that she looked 
like a cask ; he had become thin, but his fingers thrust 
out from the ends of his narrow sleeves gave him an air 
of greediness for gain that nothing contradicted, for that 
matter. 

The first time he was admitted to Nadia’s presence, 
the very day of her arrival, she again felt the old im- 
pression she had in the past so clearly expressed to her 
father: “That man hates us!” In truth, beneath his 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


135 


affected ways, beneath the extreme politeness of his 
language, lurked a sullen anger, a long restrained ani- 
mosity. This man, having remained an iuferior, could 
not pardon Nadia for being yet rich, yet a great lady, 
perhaps yet beautiful, when his wife was nothing but a 
shapeless and ridiculous mass, after having been for ten 
years a poor fool, without malice and without judgment. 

“ Madame, will you permit me to present my children 
to you ? ” asked he. 

While maintaining the show of respectful politeness, 
he had banished the hyperbolical forms of the old 
regime and even abstained from giving Nadia the title 
of Countess that belonged to her. 

“ Certainly,” said Nadia, kindly. She called her son 
and daughter, who were playing in an adjoining apart- 
ment, while Feodor went in search of his offspring. He 
soon returned, gently pushing before him by the shoul- 
ders two boys, the eldest of whom was about nine and 
the second scarcely four, and two little girls, unkempt, 
bundled up in their heavy woolen garments, but whose 
cheeks were fresh and whose eyes were sparkling. 

“ You are richer than I am,” said Nadia, smiling. 

She put out her hand to summon the children, but 
they did not approach to kiss it, as the custom ordained 
— a custom observed at that period even by the children 
of the best families when a female relative or friend 
invited them to come to her. They remained motionless, 
looking stealthily at the lady’s children as if they were 
rare animals or objects of curiosity. 

“Come,” said Nadia, somewhat astonished, “and get 
acquainted. Pierre, Sophie, go and kiss the children of 
Feodor Ivanitch.” 

Pierre and Sophie advanced with eagerness; from 
their earliest infancy their mother had accustomed them 
to exchange an innocent kiss of peace with the poor 


136 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


children of their age, even those they met ,^e street, 
provided that the latter had an aspect of health. To 
the mind of Madame Korzof this kiss of her children 
was the necessary compliment of their charity. 

The little strangers received this caress without 
returning it, and the six children stood motionless and 
embarrassed beneath the gaze of the parents, who 
thought a great deal and said nothing. It was in vain 
Nadia tried, she could not bring herself into the least 
sympathy with the heirs of Feodor Stepline. 

“Go and play in the flower-garden,” said Nadia. In 
what were those innocents responsible for the antipathy 
with which their father inspired her? “And now, 
Monsieur Stepline,” resumed she, “ let us talk over our 
business, if you please.” 

Feodor obeyed ; drawing up a chair, as in the past at 
Peterhof, he took from a wallet he had placed upon the 
table a bundle of papers and bank-notes. Madame 
Korzof instantly saw again the scene as it had occurred 
then, and a flood of anger made the blood mount to her 
face. She saw from the expression of her superinten- 
dent’s countenance that he also remembered it; with a 
hasty movement she placed her hand upon the bell, in 
order to have this insolent fellow thrown out of doors 
by her servants. She stopped herself. Away in the 
country, so far from all power and all justice, was she 
sure even of the devotion of her people, accustomed for 
so long to obey the superintendent? Save two or three 
women, all her personnel consisted of the former domes- 
tic of her father. 

“ The revenues have considerably decreased this year,” 
began Feodor, in his business man’s drawling voice ; 
“ the lack of hands, occasioned by the partial abolition 
of enforced day labor, has compelled us to leave unculti- 
vated a portion of the wheat fields.” 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


137 


lie continued, enumerating the causes that had dimin- 
ished by nearly one-half the former splendor of the 
domain. Nadia allowed him to proceed, thinking 
secretly that many other proprietors had suffered the 
same inconveniences, and that their income, though 
lessened, was not half shorn away; she let him speak 
on, however ; besides, this was not the place for discus- 
sion. To prove to this man his bad faith was impossi- 
ble for the moment; all she could do would be to 
promptly discharge him ; but she was unable to deter- 
mine to do this without having consulted her husband ; 
in these troublous times, one was not sure of one’s 
peasants, and what would she do in a revolt, alone with 
her two children? 

“Then, you approve my accounts ? ” said Feodor, as 
he finished his enumeration. 

“ I accept them,” answered she, emphasizing the word 
accept. 

He glanced at her stealthily and encountered the gaze 
of her handsome gray eyes, full of calm disdain. He 
arose and was about to make some supplementary expla- 
nation, when the cries of children were heard in the 
garden. Nadia, recognizing the voice of Pierre, ran to 
the window; but she could see nothing. At the 
moment when she was hurrying toward the door, the 
children came running into the salon, Sophie and Pierre 
in advance, very red and very indignant. The four little 
Steplines were behind them ; they stopped at the door, 
near their father, who looked at them without saying a 
word. Beneath this look, they trembled and grew still. 

“ What is the matter? Why that noise? Can you 
not play quietly?” said Nadia, restraining with great 
trouble the anger that had reawakened within her at the 
sullen aspect of the superintendent’s children. 

“ Mamma, it was the biggest one!” cried Pierre, point- 


138 


THE CHILDREN’S QUARREL. 


ing to the eldest boy; “we were playing horse; he 
thought I didn’t go fast enough and he beat me.” 

“With the end of the cord?” asked Nadia, pale as 
death. 

“No, mamma, with a stick he had broken from a 
tree.” 

He rolled up the sleeve of his little shirt and showed 
his delicate arm on which was visible the red and swollen 
mark of the blow from the stick. Nadia pulled down 
the sleeve and raised her head. 

“ What! are you not ashamed of yourself? ” said she 
to the culprit ; “ a child younger than you, and who had 
done you no harm 1” 

The delinquent glanced at her with his treacherous 
and sullen look, then turned away his eyes and said 
nothing. 

“ He shall be punished, madame,” said Stepline, with 
his sharp voice; “you can count upon it. You must 
excuse their manners; they are not the children of a 
Prince.” 

Reassembling his flock before him, he went out with 
a bow, while Nadia clasped her children in her arms. 
The next day she wrote to her husband to leave his 
patients and rejoin her at once. 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


139 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE TWO ORPHANS. 

Korzof arrived in a few days; Nadia’s letter, without 
giving him any definite particulars, had led him to sus- 
pect some danger, and he had left everything to hasten 
to the protection of his family. When he was able to 
talk with his wife, he immediately saw that if the facts 
were not grave in themselves, they were the symptom of 
a rather unsatisfactory state of things. 

The question that first presented itself was whether to 
keep Feodor Stepline and make the best of the situation, 
or to get rid of him immediately and make a clean 
sweep. After several conferences, Dmitri and his wife 
decided to keep Stepline, at least for the present; as it 
was impossible for them to tell just how far the super- 
intendent had leagued himself with the peasants in 
robbing the masters, the wisest course was to avoid 
anything that might bring on a revolt, especially while 
the family were at the mercy of both parties. 

“So,” said Nadia, with a sigh, “ all the pleasure that I 
promised myself from my sojourn here is gone now. 
The best thing we can do is to leave. You must take 
us away, Dmitri.” 

“I will take all of you away; that is understood,” 
answered he; “but how is the pleasure spoiled? Is not 
the mansion still the mansion of your parents? Do you 
not find here, as in the past, numerous and dear souvenirs? 
Is it not your patrimony, received as an inheritance and 
transmitted to our children by the will of your excellent 


140 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


father? — and are you not happy to be at their house, 
happier still than at your own?” 

“No,” responded Nadia; “I am not happy. I see 
only that a scoundrel is despoiling our children of what 
legally belongs to them ; I know that he is doing it 
because he counts upon our indulgence and our weakness, 
and that makes my dignity as a mother suffer. You 
think that silence is the wisest course. 1 think so, too, 
because I believe all you tell me; but know that I do 
not submit to the daily presence of that wretch without 
a secret revolt of my whole internal being, and I ask you 
as a favor to shorten my sojourn here.” 

“Since such is the case,” said Korzof, “you shall leave 
next week, and as soon as you and the children are in a 
place of safety, I will turn away the man who fills you 
with such a violent disgust.” 

The young wife thanked her husband with the tend- 
erest transports; she burned to tell him the principal 
motive of her aversion for Stepline; but in the presence 
of so many diverse interests, and moved particularly by 
the fear of occasioning some violent scene the results of 
which would be incalculable, she resolved yet to main- 
tain silence, cost what it might. 

Feodor Stepline showed himself but little, and his 
children seemed to have sunk into the earth. The 
principles of equality he had taught them, and that 
consisted chiefly in as extended as possible an application 
of the law of the strongest, were carried into effect 
thenceforward either among themselves — under the 
pretext that it is wise to wash one’s dirty linen in one’s 
family — or upon little peasants of no consequence, accus- 
tomed to receive blows, and capable at need of returning 
them, but to whom never could occur the odd idea of 
complaining to their parents, who were more disposed 
to augment by several whacks the stock already received 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


141 


than to make complaints against the children of monsieur 
the superintendent. 

When Korzof met Feodor for some indispensable 
interview, the latter was as submissive and devoted as 
possible. The superintendent was one of those men who 
are insolent only to women or to weak and indulgent 
creatures, incapable of avenging themselves — either 
because their silence comes from a feeling of shame or 
because they say to themselves that the offense will only 
be increased if made known. People of this kind are not 
rare ; emboldened by impunity, they pursue the course 
they have adopted until brought to bay by a brave and 
intelligent man who unmasks and thrashes them. 

Fortunately for human nature, that time is sure to 
come. Stepliue had felt that Korzof was not a man to 
be trifled with; hence, in his presence, he was polite, 
docile, irreproachable. Nadia would have given a great 
deal to see him forget himself some day, in order to give 
occasion for a somewhat rough apostrophe; but this 
pleasure was not to be granted her: Feodor was too much 
upon his guard. 

The people of the village and neighborhood were 
greatly astonished to learn that the lord’s family were 
about to quit the district after so brief an apparition; 
the Prince had accustomed his peasants to much longer 
sojourns; but no one thought of complaining about it. 

The act of emancipation had awakened so many 
ambitions, raised up so much covetousness, that the 
former benefits no longer counted in the memory of those 
who had received them; the women and the old men 
alone preserved a tender remembrance of the good mas- 
ters, who during so many years had not refused either 
the wood required to build a house or the handful of 
wool of which to make a caftan. But the men for the 
most part would have considered gratitude in the light 


142 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


of a weakness. This could not be reckoned a crime on 
their part. In this those ignorant peasants did not show 
themselves very different from the ordinary members of 
even the most civilized society. 

One thing only spoke in favor of the masters and 
caused a feeling of sympathy. 

This was the kind of hospital established in the past 
at small cost by Roubine at the request of his daughter. 
The peasants had quickly recognized the real benefit of 
this foundation; they had always gone there in crowds, 
and if the majority had preferred to be cared for at home, 
at least they had accepted with joy the advice and medi- 
cines given gratuitously. 

They knew, besides, perfectly how to distinguish 
between the master, who in their opinion still kept a 
great deal too much of the land and their wealth, but 
who spoke with kindness and acted according to law, 
and the rapacious superintendent, who robbed on all 
sides and lived not less upon the peasant than the lord. 

Fully resolved as was Korzof to submit to a disagree- 
able state of things rather than assume the responsibility 
of some conflict, the consequences of which no one could 
measure, he decided to profit by the ascendency given 
him by his title of doctor, added to the good influence of 
the hospital and the dispensary. For several days he 
went personally to the consultations and delivered the 
remedies with his own hand. 

While chatting with the patients he obtained many 
confidential statements that he never could have drawn 
forth otherwise, and before the week was over he was 
convinced in every way that the peasants detested Feodor 
as much as the latter detested them. 

As soon as it was known in the villages that the doctor 
was not the friend of the superintendent, as the latter 
had constantly boasted, each one hastened to tell his 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


143 


grievances; but with that spirit of trickery that never 
abandons the peasant, this was done under the pretext, 
more or less justified, of asking for a prescription. They 
complained of their physical ills; then they passed to the 
troubles of life, harder yet to bear, and Korzof had a 
new item to add to the record he was composing for 
Stepline. 

“ I believe,” said he one morning to Nadia, who, all 
ready for the departure, was waiting only for a definitive 
resolution on the part of her husband, “I believe we 
have the rascal in our hands. I hold proofs enough to 
make him pass the rest of his life in prison if I wished 
to institute a legal inquiry; but that is unspeakably 
repugnant to me; not on his account — he deserves 
heavy punishment, and what I pardon him for the least is 
having abused the name of your father to oppress the 
peasants — but he has irresponsible and innocent children.” 

Nadia was silent. She recalled the scene of the day 
of her arrival, the livid mark of the stick on her son’s 
arm, and said to herself that if the children were irre- 
sponsible for the moment a day would come when the 
paternal instincts would not be less strong in them ; but 
she uttered not a word. 

“I believe, Nadia,” persisted Korzof, “that it will be 
wisest to disembarrass ourselves of the scoundrel with- 
out giving him up to justice and that this will not be a 
very difficult thing to do ” 

“In whatever manner it may be done,” said the young 
wife, casting upon her husband her beautiful, honest 
glance, “I shall breath more freely the day I know he 
has quitted this place.” 

As painful as would be the interview he contem- 
plated, Korzof resolved to enter upon it boldly; now that 
he knew Feodor had no power to excite the peasants 
against him, he was in haste to finish the business and 


144 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


wished to leave nothing undone. He, therefore, sum- 
moned the superintendent before him at once and firmly 
awaited him with all the resignation of a man who has 
the prospect of a disagreeable task and all the firmness 
of one who is prepared for the accomplishment of his 

duty- 

Stepline entered with his usual deliberate air. He had 
renounced the obsequious manners as well as the Russian 
garments of his ancestors. 

“Sit down, please,” said Korzof, pointing to a chair. 

The superintendent obeyed, without removing his eyes 
from the doctor’s face, upon which he saw an expression 
that did not much please him. 

“Since my arrival here,” continued the young doctor, 
“I have made inquiries about everything, as becomes a 
proprietor and a father of a family careful of the means 
of his children, and I have established between you and 
the peasants on one side, between myself and you on 
the other, the existence of several misunderstandings.” 

The word was of an extreme moderation; but, from 
Korzof ’s air, the superintendent had understood that he 
was unmasked. 

The blow did not take him unawares. One does not 
live in the daily practice of fraud without expecting 
some troublesome event at one time or another. With 
the extreme mobility that characterized his cunning- 
mind, he caught a glimpse of a way of extricating him- 
self from the situation in an honorable manner, at least 
so far as appearances were concerned. He would lose 
his position, but his stealings had been safely stowed 
away in anticipation of such an event, and, if he could 
save his honor, he would be doing more than Ke had 
dared to hope for. He arose with dignity and stood in 
front of Korzof. 

“I understand,” said he, in an agitated voice; “I have 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


145 


been slandered. I knew that I would be; I have fore- 
seen this day. It is not without deep emotion that I 
see myself brought to this extremity so long feared; but 
from the moment that M. the Count can have a doubt as 
to the efficacy of my services, there is but one thing for 
me to do: offer him my resignation.” 

Korzof was stunned by so much audacity; at the same 
time, the situation had untangled itself in such an easy 
manner that he with difficulty controlled a strong desire 
to laugh. 

“Just the thing,” said he; “I was about to ask you for 
your resignation, but you have spared me the trouble of 
taking that step. I thank you for it, Monsieur Stepline.” 

Feodor turned pale at this sarcasm; he stood with his 
eyes fixed on the floor, fearing lest his glance should 
betray all the hate raging in his soul. 

“ When must I present you my accounts?” asked he, 
in a choking voice. 


“To my knowledge, you have no accounts to present,” 
calmly answered Korzof. “ Two weeks since my wife 
accepted those you presented to her; since then we have 
ordered no emplojmient of our funds; this is not the 
season of sales; every kopeck of the working capital 
should be in your hands; you can turn it over to me 
when you like — in an hour, for instance, or after break- 
fast, if you prefer.” 

Stepline bowed in silence. Korzof had snatched from 
him his last plank of safety that he had hoped yet to 
file and pare before reaching the shore. He was walking 
toward the door, when Korzof recalled him. 

“What do you intend doing for the future?” he asked, 
moved by a feeling of compassion for the man who had 
suddenly lost a hereditary situation. 

“I intend to remain with my family in the house 
belonging to me until I find a position that suits me,” 


9 


146 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


replied Stepline, raising his head. “I will engage in 
trade; I will use for that purpose the small capital my 
father bequeathed to me.” 

He glanced at Korzof with a sort of defiance. The 
doctor arose tranquilly, and their eyes were upon the 
same level. Stepline lowered his. The glance of this 
honest man stung him into a species" of fury. 

“Your father was a prudent individual, Monsieur 
Stepline; I hope you may make your fortune,” said 
Korzof. 

“I thank you,” replied Stepline, as he closed the door. 

All this had not lasted two minutes. Korzof glanced 
at the little traveling clock that never quitted his desk, 
and was astonished at the brief space of time that had 
sufficed to change a situation from bottom to top. En- 
chanted and still all amazed, he hastened to announce the 
great news to Nadia, who could not believe what she 
heard. 

An hour later Feodor brought the working capital 
and placed it in Korzof ’s hands. This ceremony was 
completed without any useless exchange of words. Two 
hours afterwards Nadia’s children ran to the window, 
attracted by the sound of wheels. Stepline’s light 
drochki, drawn by a pair of excellent horses, was already 
disappearing in the dust upon the road that led to the 
neighboring town. 

“Was that the superintendent who has just gone 
away?” asked Nadia of the old butler. 

“Yes, madame. His wife and children will join him 
next week. He has just sold his house to the staroste of 
the village for half as much again as it cost him, and it is 
not new, either! That man understands business!” con- 
cluded the aged servant, shaking his head. 

Left alone, Dmitri and Nadia looked at each other and 
burst out laughing. 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


147 


“Well, it has not taken long, at least,” said Nadia. 
“You know how to make a clean sweep, Dmitri. Who 
is to be superintendent now?” 

“ Best easy ; a proverb claims that an abbey does not 
stop work for want of a monk. Something tells me 
there are in Russia more superintendents than estates to 
superintend. We will find one, good or bad.” 

“And should he be bad? ” 

“We will make a change.” 

“And meanwhile?” 

“We will remain here. And what holidays we are 
going to have, Nadia! The dear little ones will enjoy a 
full measure of fresh air and freedom in the sunlight! ” 

Dmitri’s anticipations were realized point by point. 
He soon had a superintendent, whom, at the expiration 
of a week, he exchanged for another. The estate was 
none the worse for this, as, according to the Russian 
proverb, “A new broom always sweeps well,” and Nadia 
had the inexpressible comfort of thinking that she was 
at last disembarrassed of the man whose presence had 
for so long filled her with an insurmountable repugnance. 

The two months’ holiday passed like a dream. Nadia 
and her husband, freed from every care, felt several years 
younger, and thought that, instead of descending, they 
were ascending the stream of life. Had it not been for 
the regret the still recent loss of the Prince caused them, 
the time would have been the happiest they had yet 
known. But even this regret was tempered by the 
sweetness of the thought that nothing had ever afflicted 
the excellent man since the death of his wife, whom he 
had tenderly loved. It seemed as if Providence had 
wished to deal him the heaviest blow at an early period 
in order to allow him to lead the happiest life that could 
be imagined. 

Who can say how much of the sorrow we feel for the 


148 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


death of those we love is made up of regrets for the 
unhappy fate that cut them off from the enjoyment of life, 
how much of regrets for the failure of the unrealized 
hopes that had been founded upon them ? 

In this case there was nothing of the kind. Roubine’s 
existence had passed without a cloud; he had died with- 
out suffering. Such a fate is better calculated to inspire 
envy than pity. 

So thought his children, and they repressed the exag- 
geration of their regrets, saying to themselves that the 
excellent man could not have known a greater grief than 
to see them so much afflicted by his loss. 

But everything has an end, especially holidays! Kor- 
zof was compelled to return to St. Petersburg in order 
to give his assistants their vacation one after another. 
Nadia accompanied him and installed herself at Spask for 
the rest of the fine season, so short in that country. 
There Dmitri could come and go, thanks to the steam- 
boats that furrowed the river, maintaining a regular 
service between Schlusselburg and St. Petersburg. 

“We ought to have the yacht now!” said Nadia, 
smiling, as the boat stopped in the middle of the Neva 
to let the bateau that had put out to meet them come 
alongside. 

“Ah ! my dear wife, we are no longer numbered among 
the rich of this world!” replied her husband, seating 
himself at the helm. “Not that your father has not left 
us a vast fortune; but, under the new s} r stem, our reve- 
nues are reduced one-half, and, in order that our children 
may be at their ease later on, we must resign ourselves 
to traveling by steamboat like everybody else. Would 
you give the hospital for a yacht?” 

Nadia answered him with her pretty smile. 

The moss-covered little landing place still existed, but 
was so old and so decrepit that people did not often dare 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


149 


to disembark there; besides, the draught of the steam- 
boats did not permit them to approach the shores and 
they were compelled to make use of lighters. The 
bateau that bore the entire Korzof family sank gently 
into the wet sand, and the children walked ashore over a 
small, narrow plank of the most unassuming description. 

“Do you remember, Dmitri?” asked Nadia, putting 
her hand on his arm and pointing to the frail landing- 
place that seemed to tremble above the limpid water. 

“Do I remember? Dear soul, it was there you gave 
me life by giving me yourself! ” 

“Listen, Dmitri,” answered the young woman; “it 
was you who gave me life. I was then so selfish, so 
vainglorious, so — ” 

He gently put his hand over her mouth to prevent her 
from continuing. 

“Don’t slander yourself before your children,” said he, 
with a laugh. “You mustn’t forget that it is for us to 
inspire them with respect for the family!” 

After several delightful weeks, that would have been 
much gayer if the sun had not set every day a little 
earlier than the day before — and the day before it was 
too quick, as the children said — everybody returned to 
St. Petersburg in order to commence work there in good 
earnest. 

That, at least, was what Dmitri Korzof said to his son 
Pierre, when he took him for the first time into the 
study hall, that until then had been unused. 

“Do you see,” said he to him, “the blackboard, the 
maps, the globes and all the books in those book-cases? 
Beginning now, in a few years you must know bow to 
use all these things ; you must know everything in those 
books and an infinitude of other matters still more diffi- 
cult and taking much longer to learn. Those who are 
unacquainted with these things are nothing, nobody ; if 


150 


THE TWO ORrHANS. 


they have been unable to learn them from lack of means, 
they are to be greatly pitied ; if they have been unwil- 
ling to learn them, they are to be greatly blamed ; for 
instruction is as necessary to man as bread: without 
bread, he does not develop and strengthen ; without 
instruction, he remains stupid or wicked, often both. If 
you have thoroughly understood me, what are you going 
to do ? ’ 

“ I am going to make haste to learn all that’s there,’’ 
answered Pierre, stoutly, “in order that you may soon 
teach me the rest, the more difficult things.” 

Korzof placed his hand on his little boy’s head and 
felt that life had, indeed, been merciful to him. 

An attempt was made to separate Sophie from her 
brother during the study hours, for, besides being a year 
younger than he, she was slender and delicate ; but they 
had to be reunited, so nervous and unhappy were they, 
the one without the other. 

Nadia superintended their lessons and completed them 
herself with some of those luminous explanations that 
the professors, even the most intelligent, do not always 
have at hand, but that mothers often know intuitively. 

She had possessed the courage to refuse herself the 
pleasure of teaching them personally, fearing to lessen, in 
the little disagreements inseparable from even the most 
sagely directed education, that great maternal dignity 
that ought not to be expended in detail on the unimport- 
ant occasions of daily life. 

Nadia wished to be above the little routine rewards 
and punishments. 

What she lost in trifling joys she found again in the 
deep tenderness, in the loving veneration of her children, 
who saw her always like herself, as dignified and serene 
as the incarnation of Justice upon earth. 

Even before her year of mourning had expired Mad- 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


151 


ame KorzoF conformed to the last advice of her father by 
renewing with society those relations she had allowed to 
be a little too much broken. Everywhere she was 
received with joy ; the spectacle of her great disinterest- 
edness, the simplicity with which she had in the past 
detached herself from that which is generally the most 
desired, had inspired with regard to her a respect that 
had easily become colder than was necessary. On seeing 
her more simple than ever, on perceiving that she sought 
neither to play any role nor to place herself upon a 
pedestal, her friends, who had always been proud of her, 
drew near again ; better known, she inspired more devo- 
tion, and, without losing anything in grandeur, she 
gained a world of sympathy. 

The Easter fetes of the year that followed were very 
brilliant; they had laid aside court mourning and every- 
body was in haste to seek amusement ; everything was a 
pretext for a dancing party; they made the children 
dance in order to be able to dance themselves once more. 
Nadia’s handsome children, whose beauty and grace had 
passed into a proverb, were present at all the fdtes, and 
their mother took care not to refuse them this innocent 
pleasure, as yet unattended with inconvenience because 
of their age. 

At the house of one of her relatives, who had formerly 
acted as her chaperon and who, being a childless widow, 
took all her pleasure in giving pleasure to others, Nadia 
noticed one evening a young girl of about fourteen, 
whose face, without possessing anything of that which 
characterizes beauty, was radiant with a singular attract- 
iveness. 

The child was very simply clad in a plain white 
muslin dress ; pieces of black velvet bound the braids of 
her brown hair that fell lower than her belt. She was 
seated upon one of the benches that garnished the ball- 


152 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


rooms, near the piano. A little boy about two years 
younger was sitting beside her; they did not speak to 
each other or anybody else. 

On seeing the mistress of the house, who was crossing 
the salon to come to her, the young girl arose and very 
modestly seated herself on the piano stool. Her brother 
placed himself at her side and stood ready to turn the 
pages of the music placed upon the rack. Nadia looked 
at them, but with astonishment. The young girl began 
to play in good time, with much taste, while the youth- 
ful dancers heartily enjoyed themselves. 

“Who is that little girl, who plays so well? ” asked 
Madame Korzof of her hostess, interested by these two 
children, who had not the air of having come to amuse 
themselves and whose unexceptionable bearing was in 
every way similar to that of the best bred among the 
little guests. 

“ Ah ! my dear Nadia,” replied the excellent woman, 
seating herself beside her niece, “ it’s a sad story. Those 
children come of a noble family: their mother was a 
Princess Rourief; but you knew her. She had the 
misfortune to marry a high liver, who spent all she 
possessed ; he took to drinking, and at last died misera- 
bly. Then she gave' lessons on the piano to bring up 
the two little ones that you see there. She gave them 
the best education that can be imagined ; the boy entered 
the gymnasium, where he became a capital scholar ; the 
girl, who is somewhat older than her brother, was already 
teaching the piano to young beginners, when the mother 
died of inflammation of the lungs. That was nearly a 
year ago. From that time the unfortunate children were 
without either fire or home.” 

“Then you brought them here? ” said Nadia, smiling. 

“ No, indeed ! I am of the opinion that each individ- 
ual should be left to take his own initiative. When a 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


153 


child has been "thrown into the water, and he already 
knows how to swim, well or ill, one cannot render him a 
worse service than to fish him out and put him dry on 
a bank where he has nothing to expect from anybody. 
I found a good woman, who serves as chaperon to the 
little girl, and who in that manner gets rid of her small 
income far more agreeably than if she got rid of it all 
alone; she lives with them. The brother goes to the 
gymnasium, toils like an enthusiast and aspires to the 
practice of medicine ; he naturally costs somewhat and 
earns nothing. The sister has kept more than half of 
her mother’s piano pupils. W ell, people have taken pity 
on the youthful music teacher, and, despite her short 
dresses, her scholars think a great deal of her.’ , 

“How happens it that she plays here for the dancers? ” 
asked Nadia, who glanced at the two orphans with 
increased interest. 

“I have done her some services; — at least, I was 
unable to so conceal myself that she should be ignorant 
of the circumstance, and she asked as a favor to play 
the dance music at my house whenever I had company. 
That is her way of paying the debt of gratitude. Those 
children have manners and hearts that do honor to their 
unfortunate mother.” 

The contra-dance was finished, the dancers scattered. 
The young girl took her little handkerchief, passed it 
over her face and returned it to her pocket. Then she 
smiled upon her brother with an expression of tender- 
ness so extraordinary that Nadia went beside her to talk 
with her. 

“Doesn’t it weary you, mademoiselle, to play for the 
others to dance without dancing yourself? ” she asked. 

The young girl threw her eyes upon this unknown 
lady, arid, reassured by her smile, answered, with a tran- 
quil pride : 


154 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


“Oli, no, madame; on the contrary, it gives me 
pleasure.” 

“ Doesn’t it fatigue you? ” 

“ Sometimes, towards the end of the soiree ; but not 
this evening ; I did not play on the piano this afternoon, 
expressly.” 

Nadia looked at her attentively, then also examined 
the young lad; they bore this scrutiny without false 
shame, without embarrassment, like modest and well- 
bred children, with a shadow of reserve in addition, as 
is the case with those who find themselves on a footing 
of inferiority where they know they are the equals of 
everybody. 

“ If I were to play for you to dance,” said Madame 
Korzof, suddenly, “ would that please you?” 

The little boy’s eyes sparkled with joy, and he looked 
at his sister, but said nothing. The young girl expressed 
her thanks and refused with a very frank smile that 
lighted up her countenance. 

“And your brother, why does he not dance?” 

“Because my sister cannot dance.” 

“Well, try a waltz together,” said Nadia, removing 
her gloves and seating herself at the piano ; “ that wiil 
stretch your limbs. Shall they not dance, aunt? ” added 
she, addressing the Countess, who was approaching. 

The latter having approved with a nod, the young 
couple began amid the applause of the other little 
dancers; they danced marvelously well, with a juvenile 
grace that it was a pleasure to see. When Nadia ceased 
to play, they came back to her; they thanked her with 
much dignity and a restrained enthusiasm that touched 
Madame Korzof; she bent toward the young girl to talk 
to her in a low tone. 

“Will you come to see me, mademoiselle? Made- 
moiselle — ” 


THE TWO ORPHANS. 


155 


“Martha Drevine,” answered the young girl to the 
look of interrogation in Nadia’s eyes. 

“Mademoiselle Martha,” resumed the latter, “will you 
come to see me? I have a little daughter, who wants 
very much to begin the piano ; I am sure she would be 
delighted to have you for her teacher.” 

“ I thank you infinitely, madame,” replied the young 
girl. “When can I present myself at your residence 
without disturbing you?” 

“To-morrow at noon. Au revoir.” 

She nodded an affectionate good-bye to the two chil- 
dren and quitted them. An instant afterward Martha 
ran to her benefactress, who was passing among the 
groups. 

“Madame,” said she to her in a low tone, “I have a 
new pupil at the house of that beautiful and kind lady 
who played for us to dance! I thank you so much, 
madame!” 

Her eyes expressed still more thankfulness than her 
lips. The Countess gave her a friendly nod and went on 
her way. 

A week later little Sophie Korzof asked to have a 
piano lesson every day. 

“It is not for the piano,” said she; “it is to see Martha 
Drevine oftener!” 


156 


THE PESTILENCE. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE PESTILENCE. 

“Look out! Attention! Steady there!” 

And, raising himself with both hands, Pierre Korzof 
passed, in the game of leap-frog, over the back of Volodia 
Drevine; the little boy had barely time to place himself 
in position, when Volodia passed over his head, three 
feet from the floor. 

“Bravo!” cried Sophie, applauding with enthusiasm. 
“Oh! how I’d like to be a boy, to be able to jump in 
that way!” 

“Jump the ropel” said Martha. 

“ Jumping the rope is always the same thing,” replied 
Sophie, with a little pout. “It’s leap-frog that’s amu- 
sing!” 

“Because you can’t play it,” said her brother, giving 
one of the braids of her hair a gentle pull. “If it 
wasn’t prohibited you wouldn’t think it more amusing 
than anything else. Come, Volodia, let’s all jump the 
high rope; young ladies are permitted to do that. Well, 
Martha, won’t you join us? ” 

“I’m too old,” answered the latter, laughing; “I’m 
past sixteen! — and, besides, somebody must hold the 
rope. We can tie one end to the bar of* the trapeze; but, 
if some one did not hold the other end, all of you would 
fall and break your noses, and the Lord knows that 
would be an irreparable loss, for not one of us has a nose 
sufficiently long now ! ” 

The four children laughed heartily. Korzof, who was 


THE PESTILENCE. 


157 


passing the door of the study hall, transformed into a 
play-room by a rainy November afternoon, stopped to 
look at and listen to them. 

“This is what they wanted,” said he to Nadia, who 
had joined him: “our little ones had need of the gayety 
and vitality of others. We are too serious for them! 
Even when we laugh, we laugh like great personages; 
children want the society of children. I am very glad I 
had Pierre enter the g}'mnasium this year.” 

“So am I,” responded his wife; “but without Volodia 
it would have been very dangerous for him to attend. 
Pierre is belligerent — that, however, is not a crime ; 
only, when one attacks others, it is necessary to possess 
the nruscular strength requisite to face the difficulties — ” 

“Of his character!” interrupted Korzof, laughing and 
resuming his walk in the wide corridor that served as a 
promenade during the winter days. “Pierre begins the 
quarrels and Volodia, like a Deus ex machina, arrives in 
time to settle them or take them up! Nothing better 
could be desired ! It clearly proves the intervention of 
Providence ! ” 

“Don’t joke!” exclaimed Nadia: “we have had 
unusual good fortune in meeting with this fine lad, so 
kind, so loyal, so intelligent, who seems to have been 
formed expressly to be the friend of our Pierre. We 
have had good fortune, Dmitri, it is true — everything we 
have touched has succeeded! Indeed, things have 
reached such a pitch that I sometimes ask myself what 
dreadful misfortune will fall upon us some day and make 
us pay for our insolent felicity ! ” 

Dmitri pressed closely against him the arm of his 
stout-hearted companion. During the long while they 
had been walking the road of life together, more than 
once he had thought himself too happy, and his heart 
had been wrung as at the visible approach of a catas- 


158 


THE PESTILENCE. 


trophe. Each time, however, the storm had been turned 
aside, and their existence had resumed its course, with 
its inevitable cortege of small troubles and trifling vexa- 
tions, but they had been spared those great thunderbolts 
that overthrow everything and leave only ruins behind 
them. 

“ Everybody is not so cruelly tried, my dear wife,” said 
he; “numbers of men finish their existence without 
having suffered from great calamities. The death of 
your excellent father, the diseases that have afflicted our 
children, the constant diminution of the revenues that 
give us our reserve funds, are not they sufficient proofs 
that fate does not favor us bevond measure, and that we 
need not fear on the part of that blind power the sort of 
revenge you seem to dread?” 

Nadia smiled and sighed simultaneously; in fact, she 
had no reason to fear the future, but her long felicity had 
made her timid. 

As she saw her children growing up around her, as 
she thought how kind nature had been toward them in 
giving them precious faculties, she felt still more power- 
less to protect herself against these sad presentiments. 
Nevertheless, as she was strong and brave, she realized 
how foolish and weak it would be to give way to posi- 
tively unreasonable impressions; after several efforts, 
she recovered entire control of herself and recommenced 
her life of daily toil. 

She had undertaken to personally superintend the 
whole service of the women. Not that she was seen 
very often in the hospital halls: she rarely appeared 
there, in order to husband that resource for the cases in 
which some epidemic should act very powerfully upon 
the moral force of the patients. When she learned that 
the women had displayed too much fright in conse- 
quence of a succession of too rapid deaths, that the ter- 


THE PESTILENCE. 


159 


rible word “contagious,” repeated from one bed to 
another, caused a sound of half-stifled sobs to run along 
beneath the lofty, well-ventilated ceilings, Nadia made 
her appearance, one fine morning, in the dress of gray 
cloth she had imposed upon the nurses as less susceptible 
of retaining the disease germs than the classic black 
woolen dress. She went from bed to bed, with kind 
words of consolation. 

“You have been spoken to about contagion,” said she; 
“you can see clearly that the report is untrue because I 
am among you! Would I have come had there been 
danger?” 

She passed on her way, rousing depressed courage, 
smiling upon those nearly cured, consoling those who 
were sickest; like a ray of sunlight, the warmth of which 
penetrates the damp corners chilled by winter, she 
brought the benefit of her presence, and left a warm 
impression of comfort behind her. But, instructed by 
her husband, she had the courage to abstain from those 
rash demonstrations so tempting for those who have 
made in advance the sacrifice of their lives, and whom a 
mad heroism inspires to such a point that it is merito- 
rious to draw them away. Never, when confronted by 
the peril of contagion, was she seen to bend over a dying 
woman, wipe her forehead with her handkerchief, or take 
in hers the hands frozen by approaching death; that 
could do no good, and it was a source of danger. Hence 
the nurses said of Madame Korzof: “She is very kind, 
but a trifle cold.” 

It is precisely to those who are the most benevolent 
that this reproach is generally applied; they lavish so 
much of their soul’s gifts that no more of them are left 
for puerile outward demonstrations, and the common 
herd prize only the latter. 

Nadia had asked her husband to entrust her with the 


160 


THE PESTILENCE. 


' general inspection of the service of the nurses, because 
she believed, not without reason, that she could discover 
with greater ease than a man the qualities and defects 
of her personnel. Many little things, in fact, passed 
beneath her eyes and notified her of the degree of confi- 
dence she could accord to each of her employees. The 
service of the linen-room had also reverted to her by 
right and she was already exercising in the order and 
necessary cares her daughter Sophie, who, the older she 
grew, resembled her more and more, with the exaggera- 
tion of the enthusiastic and romantic side calmed down 
in Nadia by experience and years. 

Martha Drevine had also become a valuable assistant 
to her. This young girl, brought up by an admirable 
mother and afterward tried by the difficulties of life in 
such a rough Way, had practical sense that exasperated 
Sophie and charmed Madame Korzof. 

The latter had not renounced her old admirations ; 
her desire to confer benefits above everything else and 
her search for goodness and honesty were expressed in 
the same terms; she gave to her children the same 
precepts that had governed her life; the application 
alone had changed; she certainly would not have done 
at thirty-five what she had done at twenty ; but this was 
a shade she did not notice. 

Her husband, a better judge, had been able to see it; 
sometimes, indeed, he felt that there was a lack of 
harmony between the way in which Nadia expressed her 
ideas, so lofty and so generous, and that in which they 
both now carried them into execution; but this shade of 
lack of harmony was so trifling that it was almost 
impossible to grasp it. 

Korzof had from time to time had the impression that 
there was danger in this for the minds of their children; 
but how were they to be shielded from it ? — how was 


THE PESTILENCE. 


161 


Nadia to be warned ? She did not suspect that her own 
way of acting was no longer altogether in accordance 
with her principles, and whoever should tell her so 
would cause her genuine sorrow. 

Once, however, chance aided the doctor and enabled 
him to impress a valuable lesson on the minds of his 
children. 

One evening during Lent, the family were assembled 
as usual in the dining-room, where tea had just been 
served; they were talking gayly of various things. 

The family now also included Martha and Volodia 
Drevine. After a trial of two years, Korzof and his 
wife had decided that they could not do better than to 
make allies in the work of education of those two 
children, already so sensible, whose friendship would be 
a most precious resource for Pierre and Sophie. Hence 
they resided at the hospital. 

Volodia toiled with Pierre and aided him to prepare 
his lessons more effectively than a student of twenty, 
given up to other preoccupations, would have done; 
Martha gave instructions in the city, that were now 
liberally paid for, and hence was enabled to accept from 
Madame Korzof only food and lodging for herself and 
her brother in exchange for the lessons and cares she lav- 
ished upon Sophie. The latter had professors, but nothing 
was so dear to her as her kind Martha, whose return was 
always marked by an explosion of joy that made it the 
happy event of the day for everybody. 

Not that they were constantly in accord, however. 
Sophie was all imagination and Martha good sense 
incarnate; there were days when they had their little 
disputes; but as is the case with well-bred people, be 
they children or older persons, their differences ever 
related to general questions and never to personal matters, 
so that they might wrangle for an hour without their 
10 


162 


THE PESTILENCE. 


friendship being the least in the world shaken on that 
account. 

On the evening referred to there was but little to chat 
about. Lent is not in St. Petersburg a period fertile in 
social events; concerts were in full blast, but Martha 
had too much music drummed into her ears during the 
day to entertain any lively enthusiasm for occupying 
herself with it when night came. She had a bright idea. 

“ Madame,” said she to Nadia, who was thinking in 
front of the dying fire, following in her mind some 
remembrance of her youth, “you have never told me 
how it happens that you, who are a Countess, cause 
yourself to be called simply Madame Korzof, and why 
you constructed this hospital, for it was you who con- 
structed it, was it not? Everybody admires you greatly, 
but no one has been able to tell me the why and where- 
fore of this history. It is not a secret, I hope ? If it 
were a secret — ” 

“ A secret in building stones seems to me quite diffi- 
cult to keep,” said Nadia, coloring a trifle. She laughed, 
nevertheless, and turned toward her husband, who was 
entering the dining-room. “It is not a secret, but the 
history of our life. Our children have the right to know 
it. Shall I tell it to them, Dmitri?” 

She glanced interrogatively at Korzof, who answered, 
gravely : 

“Yes; I think the time has come. Children should 
receive their parents’ history from their parents’ mouths.” 

Pierre and Sophie looked alternately at their father 
and their mother. They had not expected to see them 
grow so serious; a sort of respectful fear had taken 
possession of them, and they listened with deference. 

“ When I was a young girl,” began Nadia, “ I had a 
very decided character ; I may even say a very obstinate 
character, eh, Dmitri?” 


THE PESTILENCE. 


163 


“No,” answered Korzof, gravely shaking his head; 
“one is not obstinate when one adheres to a course for 
good reasons; we will say tenacious — that will be nearer 
the truth.” 

“ Tenacious be it,” resumed Nadia, smiling. “ I had 
read a mass of books, and as I was too young to distin- 
guish true theories from absurd theories, I had made for 
myself an ideal of life, that passed by reality somewhat 
as railroads pass by towns, that is to say at a distance 
often quite considerable. I had said to myself, among 
other things, that it was imperative to call the people to 
us, the rich and noble, in order to hasten the advent of 
the reign of equality. Do you understand me, my 
children? ” 

“Yes,” said Sophie, who was listening with wide open 
eyes. “ You were right, mamma!” 

“Evidently, I was right; but the point was to arrive 
at an understanding in reference to the means. Now, 
your father and I were the best calculated people in the 
world to come to an understanding and live happily 
together — we have proved it since; but when your 
father asked me to marry him I refused.” 

“Oh!” exclaimed the four young auditors simulta- 
neously. 

“ I refused under the pretext that he was too rich, too 
noble and, above all, too useless to wed a demoiselle 
equally rich, noble and useless.” 

“It was then, my children,” said Korzof, “that your 
mother, solicited by me, named as the condition of her 
consent that I should cease to be rich by devoting my 
fortune to the construction of this hospital ; that my 
title, which, for that matter, I am far from undervaluing, 
should be only an adjunct to our moral situation and not 
a pedestal upon which we should hoist ourselves in 
default of personal merit; and, finally, that I should 


164 


THE PESTILENCE. 


cease to be useless by consecrating my life to medicine. 
You see that your mother has realized her program; 
besides, she has made me perfectly happy and is bringing 
you up marvelously, which proves that she was right.” 

The young people’s eyes shone with repressed emotion, 
but their respect was so great that they dare not show it 
at first. After a period of silence, during which Korzof 
and his wife exchanged a look that was a resume of their 
long years of happiness, Pierre arose softly from his place 
and went to kiss his mother’s hands, upon which he 
pressed his lips for quite a while ; then, he rendered his 
father the same homage. Sophie had hidden her head 
on Nadia’s shoulder and held the doctor’s hand in a tight 
clasp. Martha and her brother remained motionless, 
filled with a great veneration for these truly superior 
beings, who spoke so unostentatiously of the grand deeds 
they had done. 

“I was right in what I did,” said Nadia, after a 
moment had elapsed, during which she had reviewed her 
life; “or rather what I did made me right; but if your 
father had not been the man he is, I do not know what 
might have come of it.” 

“Nothing but good, my beloved mother!” exclaimed 
Sophie; “you have too great a soul for anything to 
come from your acts that is not noble and lofty!” 

“ That is not certain,” resumed Madame Korzof. “At 
all events, I have changed my manner of seeing things; 
for in the past it would have been impossible for me to 
comprehend how one could act otherwise than I did ; 
now I would not take the risk of advising any one thus 
to break with all the social customs, and especially to 
practice the principles of equality that then constituted 
my strength.” 

“Why did you change, mother?” asked Pierre, anx- 
iously. 


THE PESTILENCE. 


165 

» 

“ Life changed me,” replied Madame Korzof ; “ at 
twenty we see only one side of things ; as we grow old 
we ran the risk of seeing only the other side. What 
one should endeavor to do is to see both sides with an 
equal impartiality. But you^ are yet very young, both 
of you, for such grave conversations, and we will have 
plenty of time to talk the matter over again. May the 
story of our life not be lost upon you, my children, and 
may it teach you to direct your efforts toward doing 
good, as your father and I have striven to do.” 

This scene was the subject of interminable chats 
among the children. Sophie especially never wearied of 
admiring her mother, raised suddenly in her eyes to the 
proportions of the heroines of history. Martha asked 
nothing better than to admire her benefactress, whom 
she had long worshipped in her heart ; but warned by 
the restrictions Madame Korzof had mentioned, she also 
thought that in the application of the principles of 
equality that in the past had fascinated the noble woman 
lurked the possibility of certain dangers. 

Sophie would hear nothing ; intoxicated, at the age at 
which one most readily shapes out chimeras for one’s 
self, by the atmosphere of abnegation, generosity and 
universal charity that circulated in the paternal dwelling, 
she had gradually grown more enthusiastic, more 
chimerical, than Nadia had ever been. 

Often, during their chats, her mother essayed to stop 
her in this path ; but it was exceedingly difficult to drive 
wisdom into the head of a young girl of fourteen, so 
largely developed as she was for her age. Dmitri, consulted 
by his wife on the subject of this overflow of youthful 
aspirations, thought they should be allowed to exhaust 
themselves in their own way. 

“Are we not here,” said he, “to regulate their pro- 
gress and, at need, to arrest it ? ” 


166 


THE PESTILENCE. 


Things went on in this way at the hospital for a 
happy year. Pierre’s seventeenth birthday was cele- 
brated with great pomp. After having terminated his 
studies by brilliant examinations, he had just caused 
himself to be entered as a student at the Academy of 
Medicine, thinking that no profession could be as honor- 
able for him as that of his father; besides, was it not his 
duty to work under his direction and to replace him at 
the hospital when the time for him to rest should come? 

Volodia had also become a student of medicine the 
previous year, dreaming of no other happiness than to be 
the assistant and friend of his dear Pierre for the 
remainder of his life. 

After the family celebration that had been strictly 
private, a grand dinner brought together in the evening 
those who served under Korzof’s orders and all who had 
more or less, even among the most insignificant acquaint- 
ances, contributed to th e education of him who that day 
had entered upon his career as a man. 

The joy of the guests was sincere; this family, in 
whom the noblest feelings were eoticentratecl, were the 
object of universal love and respect; the hope of seeing 
the tradition of so many virtues perpetuated was well- 
calculated to inspire satisfaction ; that day was a date 
in the lives of the children that never could be forgotten. 

The Monday following Korzof returned to his apart- 
ments in a state of anxiety. A considerable number of 
patients had presented themselves for admission the 
preceding day, all exhibiting the same strange symptoms 
of a disease forgotten for long years, and that had just 
appeared in the distant provinces. Until then nothing 
had indicated that it was about to reveal itself in St. 
Petersburg, where it had not yet been studied, save in 
isolated and unimportant cases. 

Questioned by his wife, Dmitri, for the first time in 


THE PESTILENCE. 


167 


his life, endeavored to hide the truth from her and pre- 
tended that he was suffering from an excess of fatigue 
caused by the large number of patients he had examined 
that day. 

Nadia was so accustomed to believing her husband 
that she accepted this explanation, but on the succeeding 
day, the hospital being full, when she saw the same 
anxious expression upon his face, she grew troubled; 
she asked a few questions and discovered an evident 
intention not to give her satisfactory answers. From 
that time she feared some calamity; but, as she went out 
rarely, she had not yet found the means of enlightening 
herself in the city, when, on the third day, Pierre, on 
returning from the Academy of Medicine, said suddenly 
to Korzof : 

“ Is it true, father, that the pestilence has broken out 
in St. Petersburg, and that it has already carried off 
several of our patients ? ” 

Nadia stood as if nailed to the floor. Very pale, she 
stared at her husband, awaiting his answer with an 
unspeakable anguish. 

“ It is true,” replied Korzof. “ I had hoped to be able 
to conceal it from you a little longer. The pestilence is 
here, and since Sunday we have lost eleven patients 
by it.” 

“Out of how many?” asked Nadia, yet motionless. 

“ Out of seventeen who entered with the infection; but 
to-morrow or the day after all the halls will be contami- 
nated. I have given orders to admit no one save those 
attacked by the pestilence; it is useless to expose people 
to the danger of dying of a disease worse than that with 
which they are suffering. A barrack is being constructed 
in the garden that will be very useful to us; when it is 
completed we can again receive the general run of 
patients in our halls, after having disinfected them.” 


168 


THE PESTILENCE. 


lie spoke thus to quiet himself and to quiet his wife, 
to prevent her from uttering certain words that he guessed 
were upon her lips. Pierre bowed his head; he had 
heard the stories current in the city and knew what 
frightful danger threatened those he held most dear. 

Amid the silence that ensued, they distinctly heard the 
carpenters hammering away at the boards destined to 
make a shelter for the unfortunates and, perhaps, with 
the aid of the pure air they would breathe, to save them. 
The young man left the room to go and see what progress 
the barrack was making. Korzof and his wife were 
alone. 

“Dmitri,” began Nadia; then she paused. 

He looked at her and she read in his eyes what she 
feared to see there, though she would have blushed had 
she seen anything else. 

“ Yes,” he replied to her inquiring glances. “ But you 
must go away. ’ 

“ Never!” exclaimed she, firmly placing her hand upon 
her husband’s arm. “Never, while you remain!” 

“Send away the children, then.” 

“ They will not consent to go.” 

Both were silent. The sound of the hammers grew 
noisier and noisier. Korzof went to the window and 
saw his son, who, provided with a mallet, was working 
like a common laborer. 

“ Dmitri, ’ resumed Nadia, “it is very hard!” 

“It is our duty!” answered he, taking and holding 
her hand. 

“Ah!” sighed she, “if I had only known!” 

“You would have done exactly what you did! But 
should we die from the pestilence what difference would 
it make? — we must die from that or something else!” 

“ No; to die from the pestilence is too terrible! With 
anything else there are chances of escape, while with 


THE PESTILENCE. 


169 


this — and then the horrible sufferings, for they are 
horrible, are they not?” 

“ People say so,” responded the doctor, turning away 
his face; “but I repeat what I just said — we must 
die from that or something else. And, besides, persons 
have recovered from it. Why should I take it more 
than the resident medical students, more than any other? 
Are we not in excellent hygienic conditions?” 

“Yes, undoubtedly; but you will see the patients 
every day ! ” 

“ Nadia,” said he, in a low voice, “ it is my duty ; such 
was our wish, such is still our wish, such will be our wish 
until the final day, be that day to-morrow or thirty years 
hence.” 

“You are right,” said she, with a deep sigh. “But I 
did not know how much I loved you!” 

The children were informed that they must go to 
Spask, but Pierre positively refused to leave his father. 

“ What a strange physician I would be,” said he, “ if I 
quitted my post at the moment of danger! Volodia 
would laugh at me!” 

Sophie also refused to abandon her parents, and 
Martha. smiled when the proposition to depart was made 
to her. These brave young creatures had so much 
strength and life in them that they restored serenity and 
even gayety to the hearts of Korzof and his wife. 

The news had no cheering aspects, however; the 
mortality increased daily; only downcast countenances 
were seen, only uneasy people who, at the slightest 
itching, at the appearance of the smallest pimple, thought 
themselves infected and made their wills. 

The wealthy classes were, as usual, almost spared by 
the scourge ; nevertheless, several fatal cases, absolutely 
inexplicable, thoroughly frightened the population. 

From the first Nadia had given up all personal com- 


170 


THE PESTILENCE. 


munication with the outer world, in order not to run the 
chance of spreading the disease among her friends. 

The weeks glided along ; Korzof, constantly strong and 
well, underwent every fatigue, and by his example 
maintained courage in the ranks of his assistants and 
nurses. None of them had yet been attacked, a circum- 
stance that spoke loudly in favor of the excellent material 
and moral condition of this truly unique establishment. 
By dint of living amid peril the inhabitants of the 
hospital had at last grown to believe themselves secure 
from infection, and they even made jokes at the expense 
of those St. Petersburg people who, though surrounded 
by every imaginable precaution, had yet managed to 
take the pestilence and had had the luck not to die of it. 

The number of patients was decreasing, and it seemed 
that the epidemic would soon be over. It was then that 
the entire Korzof family were seized with great fatigue. 
They appeared to have exhausted their strength in the 
resistance they had so stoutly made to the contagion. 
The doctor himself grew less prudent. 

One morning, he awoke late; a leaden sleep had 
assailed him the night before and thrown him in bed 
almost without his knowledge. Pie assumed a sitting 
posture and stared around him, as if the objects in the 
apartment, familiar as they were, had suddenly become 
strange to him. He passed his hand across hife forehead, 
with a singular sensation of torpor and weakness; then, 
feeling something that disturbed him, he touched his 
breast near the arm-pit with his finger and sat motionless; 
his mind would soon plunge into a bottomless gulf, 
from which no human power could ever withdraw it. 
With his other hand he touched the bell placed beside 
his bed. Nadia appeared; the look she cast upon her 
husband instantly revealed to her the whole fearful 
truth, and she sprang toward him with open arms. 


THE PESTILENCE. 


171 


“ Don’t touch me,” said Korzof, putting into his eyes, 
that an indescribable lassitude was closing, all the 
tenderness of a last supplication. “ Don’t touch me if 
you love me! Prevent the children from entering and 
send for the old doctor.” 

Without making an objection Nadia returned to the 
adjoining chamber, gave Martha and Sophie a commission 
that would keep them away for several hours, notified 
Pierre that he was dilatory and that it was time for him 
to go to the Academy of Medicine, replied to their ques- 
tions that Korzof was well and would soon be up, then 
sent for the physician whom her husband had demanded 
and returned to the sick man’s apartment, Though very 
weak, he had still the strength to smile upon her; then 
he closed his eyes and fell asleep. 

When the old doctor arrived he had no need to verify 
the existence of the pimple of the pestilence to know 
that his chief was lost. For six weeks past he had seen 
top many of those stricken visages to be mistaken for a 
single instant. The personnel were notified; they sent 
for all the leading physicians of St. Petersburg, who 
hastened to the hospital and held a consultation. 

“He will not suffer long,” said one of them; “that is 
all Nature can do for him now.” 

The following morning Nadia, who had not quitted 
him for even a moment, saw her husband’s respiration 
slacken, then manifest itself at long intervals. Each 
time she awaited its return with boundless anguish. At 
last she waited a long while — the respiration did not 
return. 

“It is all over,” said she in a low voice to the old 
doctor, who was looking at her with his eyes full of 
tears; “he cannot prevent me now — I can kiss him!” 

With eyes too sorrowful to weep, she was already 
bending over Korzoffs body. The doctor caught her by 
the arm and held her back. 


172 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


“Your children!” said he, simply. 

“Ah! true; I have my children,” said she, in a tone 
of indifference. 

She allowed herself to be led from the chamber with- 
out resistance. 


■: o :■ 


CHAPTER X. 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


The news of the death of Doctor Korzof spread through 
St. Petersburg and caused immense consternation. For- 
getting the dread of the contagion that until then had 
kept them at a distance, the friends of the family hastened 
to those who remained. One might say that the scourge 
ought to be disarmed, now that it had chosen its final 
prey among the noblest and best. In fact, the epidemic 
rapidly decreased, and soon no trace of the terrible visi- 
tation was left save the mourning of those who had loved 
the victims and the knowledge of their irreparable loss. 

Nadia, who had borne the first shock with an inexpli- 
cable firmness, was an entire year without succeeding in 
regaining possession of herself. She performed all her 
duties with a mechanical regular’ J 



the days immediately following 


relax her surveillance or neglect any occupation. They 
found her always ready to answer a question, to give 
advice or to repair the forgetfulness of another; but her 
thoughts were elsewhere: they saw that she lived solely 
in her past and that the feeling of her responsibility 
alone sustained her. Even her children, who were so 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


173 


dear to her, seemed to belong to her rather through the 
duty she owed them than through the affection she bore 
them; Nadia’s whole soul had followed her husband 
beyond this life. 

A year passed thus ; the children suffered more than 
one could imagine from Nadia’s condition, that they 
comprehended was morbid, but that was none the less 
full of bitterness and sorrow for them on that account. 
Pierre, already ripened by work and serious thoughts, 
become almost a man, pretty thoroughly understood his 
mother’s state of mind ; but his sister, whose spontaneous 
nature, all outbursts and passion, bore reserve and cold- 
ness with a bad grace, struggled against the external 
rigidity, against the apparent indifference of the mother 
she loved so much, and Sophie grew almost wicked by 
dint of suffering. 

Vainly did Martha strive to console her and to prove 
to her that Nadia could not always remain as she was; 
that some day she would recover in her entirety the 
mother of the past, whom she now wept for as if in her 
grave. Sophie would hear nothing. 

“You do not know what it is to love so dearly some 
one who does not love you!” cried the latter one day, 
bursting into tears. “Nor do you, Volodia! It makes 
one feel so badly that one would be heartily glad to die 
and be done with it! ” 

Martha maintained silence, unable to find opposing 
arguments; Volodia looked gravely at the young girl. 

“ You talk like ; ‘ * 1 ^ 1 ' ” said he, in a voice 



know what it is 


that was almost 


to be loved less than we desire to be. It does, indeed, 
make one feel very badly ; but when one’s soul is filled 
with lofty aspirations one does not grieve for that, but 
bears it patiently; one waits, even when one has lost 
hope ; as for you, however, you have nothing to com- 


174 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


plain of; you are perfectly aware bow much you are 
beloved; you do not know how to love yourself, if you 
cannot allow those you cherish to have some trouble that 
for the moment withdraws them from you. Are you 
selfish, Sophie?” 

The young girl, ready to rebel, cast her eyes upon the 
friend of her childhood ; the words of reproach and anger 
she was about to utter were checked on her lips, so 
grave and sorrowful did he appear. 

Yolodia, like his sister Martha, did not expend his 
affection in demonstrations; on the contrary he concen- 
trated it in order to show it in its full strength only on 
occasions of sufficient importance. More than once 
Sophie had found his advice good; amid the little fits of 
anger she was subject to at times when reprimanded, he 
had been a vigorous partisan of duty, and no matter how 
vexed at being blamed instead of pitied, she had been 
unable to conceal from herself that the young man was 
right. 

“Selfish? — no!” said she. “My sole desire — and you 
know it as well as I do, Yolodia — is to dedicate my life 
to the service of others, to make myself useful by some 
sacrifice — ” 

He interrupted her with a grave look and took her 
hand. 

“ Sacrifices, as you understand them,” said he, “ are 
brilliant things, articles of luxury, so to speak; they are 
ornaments for the life that imposes them upon itself; 
they draw to you the admiration of others and thus bring 
you a prompt reward. Sacrifice, as I understand it, is 
dull and mute; it is not showy and does not court 
mention. When you have a great desire to disturb a 
person you love in his work or meditations to make him 
your confidant, it is this kind of sacrifice that advises 
you to leave him to his thoughts; it is this kind of 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


175 


sacrifice that induces you to pardon beloved but heedless 
or selfish beings for the pain they cause you. Such 
sacrifices, Sophie, are known to no one but ourselves, and 
if you were given to them they would command you to 
respect your mother’s grief. You do not know what it 
is to lose the companion of one’s life — nothing is so 
cruel.” 

He dropped her hand and turned partially away, 
adding, in a low voice: 

“ Nothing is so cruel, save, perhaps, the knowledge 
that one will never be anything to the person one loves.” 

Sophie looked at him, undecided what to do. More 
than once she had thought she had detected in the young 
man a trusting tenderness, graver and deeper than frater- 
nal friendship. But in that case why did he constantly 
scold her? Why did he blame her incessantly? When 
one is in love one does not endeavor to be everywhere 
and always so disagreeable. 

The young girl sighed and left the study hall, the 
usual scene of their skirmishes. 

Martha had said nothing. Patient and serious, she 
took part in the lives of others with perfect disinterest- 
edness; not that she did not participate in them gener- 
ously, with all the courage and activity she possessed, 
but she felt that she was made for subordinate roles. 

“I was born to be an aunt, a sister-in-law, a god- 
mother or whatever you please,” said she at last; “pro- 
vided I am not asked to launch myself into the midst 
of the mel£e on my own responsibility.” 

Yolodia approached the excellent girl, who was look- 
ing at him with a gentle pity. 

“I assure you,” said she to him, answering her 
brother’s unspoken thoughts, “ I assure you she is good 
at heart; she is full of precious qualities, but at present 
she is suffering and that renders her unjust.” 


176 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


“ Do I not know all about her ! ” said he, turning away 
his head. 

After a short silence he resumed: 

“ Martha, I am strongly tempted to go to an academy 
at Moscow or Kief; I think I would do better there 
than here.” 

His sister uttered not a word, but grew very pale, and 
fixing her eyes upon him, awaited an explanation. 

“I am no longer here what I have been,” he continued. 
“I know not if it is because I am an insupportable 
pedant, always ready to administer reprimands, but 
Sophie is not the only one who holds aloof from me. 
Pierre also is seeking other friendship than mine. He 
has lately become very intimate with a certain Nicholas 
Stepline, of whom I can foresee nothing good.” 

“Stepline?” said Martha, searching her memory; 
“that name is not unknown to me.” 

“ He is one of those young men of plebeian extraction, 
who no longer possess the virtues of the people and have 
not succeeded in acquiring those of the superior classes ; 
he is ill-bred, sullen and coarse at bottom, though he 
endeavors to appear modest ; it is impossible for me to 
see what can attract Pierre toward him, unless it be the 
law of contrast, for our Pierre is altogether the opposite 
of this disagreeable fellow. However, they are always 
together; the only thing astonishing to me is that he has 
not yet thought of bringing him here.” 

Volodia was lost in thought for an instant; then, 
placing his hand on his sister’s shoulder, he said: 

“ That is the reason, Martha, I would do well to go 
away. When friendship is no longer useful, its dignity 
exacts that it retire.” 

“ Is it at the moment when Pierre makes bad acquain- 
tances that you find yourself useless?” asked the young 
girl, who until then had listened in silence. 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


177 


Volodia, without replying, shrugged his shoulders 
with an air of vexation. 

“ What would Doctor Korzof say if he could hear you 
speak thus?” continued she, with an accent of authority 
strange in the mouth of such a modest personage, who 
seemed unwilling to pass judgment on others. “And 
Nadia, what would she say if she knew what you were 
thinking of doing? How could you take advantage of 
the fact that, wrapped up in her grief, she does not heed 
what is passing around her, to meanly abandon her 
children? You have not then seen that, since the doc- 
tor’s death, his work has fallen on your shoulders and 
mine, and that we are continuing it? — that his unfortu- 
nate wife, buried in her grief, pays but little attention to 
anything, and that without us the children would lack 
both supervision and advice? Ah! my dear brother, 
you did not reflect when you allowed that weak thought 
to enter your mind.” 

The young man lifted his sister’s hand to his lips. 

“ You are wisdom and devotedness incarnate, Martha,” 
said he; “but you will remain. The work has grown 
very painful for me, and since Sophie detests me I have 
not the strength to continue it.” 

With a compassionate glance Martha read even to the 
depths of Yolodia’s soul. 

“Yes,” said she, “I know. But where would be the 
merit, brother, if the sacrifice were easy to make, if the 
work could be readily performed? IIow much better 
than cowards would we be if we recoiled before pain 
when duty claimed fulfillment? Do you think that I do 
not suffer at seeing you suffer? But the debt of grati- 
tude we owe the memory of Dmitri Korzof and his wife 
does not permit us to act in cowardly fashion. We will 
remain, brother, as long as we are useful, and the day is 
very far distant when we shall cease to be so.” 


178 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


The young man took liis sister in his arms, and the 
two orphans clasped each other tightly. 

“I am afraid,” said Yolodia, when he had recovered 
his calmness, “that Sophie has grown proud and considers 
me greatly beneath her because of my dependent posi- 
tion.” 

“ Even should such be the case,” replied Martha, u we - 
must bear it and pardon her the caprice on account of 
our love for her dead father and her sorrow-stricken 
mother.” 

She looked at her brother and read in his eyes that 
this caprice would be the death of all that since childhood 
he had cultivated religiously in his soul. 

He had loved Sophie as he had loved Pierre — because 
she was the child of his benefactors; then this devoted 
affection had taken another form as years rolled on. He 
loved her too much now; he would have sacrificed his 
entire youth to overcome the powerful attraction, the 
irresistible feeling that gave him wholly to her; but if 
one can prohibit one’s self from loving when one suspects 
there is danger of it, it is quite another and much more 
difficult matter to recover one’s self when one has let 
one’s soul go out toward another without one’s knowl- 
edge. He loved Sophie and, good or bad, he would love 
her always. According as she should be good or bad, 
she would fill with joy or grief the life of the man who 
loved her. 

“Well,” said Yolodia, at last, “I will do my duty 
whatever it may cost me.” 

The brother and sister grasped each other’s hands like 
soldier comrades about to go under fire together. In all 
the struggles of life, these two brave beings had clung 
one to the other and marched side by side. That would 
be their reward and their consolation forever. 

When the family assembled at tea that evening, 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


179 


Pierre, who for some time past Lad been pleased to 
absent himself at that hour, displayed particular amia- 
bility toward his mother and sister. When Madame 
Korzof was preparing to return to her chamber, her son 
approached her to say good-night and kiss her hand as 
usual. * 

“ Mother,” said he, “ I have a request to make of you. 
Will you allow me to bring here one of my comrades, a 
medical student like myself? ” 

“ Who is he?” asked Nadia, absently. 

“His name is Nicholas Stepline,” answered Pierre, 
coloring slightly. 

“Stepline?” repeated Madame Korzof, searching her 
memory. Her son awaited her response with some 
uneasiness. “Is he the right kind of a young man? 
Does Yolodia know him?” 

“I know him,” answered Yolodia, laconically. 

“Is he a man whom we can receive?” 

“If you ask my humble opinion,” resumed Yolodia, 
“ I think you can admit him to your house with as little 
inconvenience as another.” 

Nadia seemed to shake off her habitual indifference. 

“ What do you mean by that?” she inquired. 

“Simply that M. Stepline shares with many other 
young people the disadvantage of having received but a 
partial education — in a word, of not being a man of 
society. He comes from the people, and you know those 
young folks sprung from the people; morally, they may 
possess a great deal of merit, but their society is not 
always of a nature to please more refined beings.” 

“ Oh!” exclaimed Nadia, with a maternal smile, “it is 
in vain that you strive to be otherwise, Yolodia — you 
will always remain an aristocrat! Well, Pierre, you can 
bring your friend to us ; but be prudent, will you not ? 
You know one must be very careful not to form in one’s 


180 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


youtli friendships that one may afterwards drag through- 
out one’s life like a ball and chain!” 

The little company separated, each member of it 
seeking his or her apartment. 

Nadia, alone in her chamber, was reading when she 
heard a knock at the door. Thinking that it was her - 
waiting-maid come to repair some forgetfulness, she gave 
permission for the applicant to enter. To her great sur- 
prise it was Martha who presented herself. 

“ What do you want, my child? ” said Madame Korzof, 
with her accustomed kindness. 

“I have come to ask of you a moment’s interview,” 
answered the young girl. “Am I disturbing you?” 

“Certainly not, since you have need of me,” replied 
Nadia, a trifle astonished. \ 

Martha seated herself beside her, upon a low stool, and 
looked at her with that expression of firm confidence 
that imparted such a charm to her honest countenance. 

“Have you a secret to tell me ? ” demanded Madame 
Korzof, in order to encourage her. 

“No, my benefactress,” answered the young girl. “ Oh ! 
if you only knew how difficult and painful it is for me to 
tell you what I have upon my lips ! If I fail to make 
myself understood, you will detest me, drive me from 
your presence — and yet I affirm to yon that it is the 
purest affection, combined with the most sincere respect, 
that brings me here 1 ” 

“What is it, then?” asked Nadia, frowning slightly. 

“ Sophie is in trouble,” said Martha, bravely, leaping 
at a bound into the midst of the difficulty. “Sophie 
thinks that you no longer love her. Her character is 
changing, and I have not sufficient empire over her to 
direct her as I would like.” 

“Sophie?” said Nadia, in amazement. “I thought 
you wished to speak to me of yourself? ” 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE 


181 


There was a little haughtiness in her tone, a little dis- 
dain in her words; but Martha was firmly resolved to 
continue to the end and nothing could discourage her. 

“It is of Sophie. She thinks that you no longer love 
her,” valiantly repeated the young girl. 

“IIow did she get that idea?” demanded the mother, 
with evident displeasure. 

Here was the difficulty, the almost insurmountable 
obstacle. Martha took breath before speaking again. 

“Because you no longer pay any attention to her,” said 
she, at length, in a single burst. 

Nadia gave such a sudden start that her book slipped 
from her lap, where it had been lying, and fell to the 
floor. The young girl picked it up and placed it on the 
table. 

“I no longer pay any attention to my daughter?” said 
Madame Korzof, in a cold tone. “Who says that — she 
or you?” 

“She says it and thinks it; she suffers and weeps on 
account of it; she has grown bitter and unjust because 
her mother’s heart, absorbed in an irremediable grief, no 
longer beats save for the lost one. Oh ! my benefactress, 
my own heart bleeds while I talk to you and you look, 
at me with anger in your eyes — yet what I say is true! 
You live with your beloved dead, you have lost sight 
of the living! — and if I dare to tell you this, it is because 
your children are in despair! Who knows how much 
greater will be their despair, their sufferings in the future, 
if you allow your maternal solicitude to be turned away 
from them ! ” 

Nadia was silent ; with her lips firmly pressed together, 
with her eyes cast down, she was fighting a terrible 
battle with her pride. 

“Sophie complains of being neglected by me, eh?” 
said she, finally, in a milder tone. 


182 


NICHOLAS STEPLTNE. 


“She says that you no longer love her — Oh! do not be 
too severe with her! — It is the excess of her filial 
tenderness that has led her astray ! ” 

Martha paused; Madame Korzofs face had assumed 
a sad and resigned expression that commanded silence. - 

“It is true,” said she, after an instant had passed; “I 
have lived wrapped up in myself amid my souvenirs; I 
believed I was doing my duty, but, doubtless, I deceived 
myself. You have done well, Martha, to show me the 
right road. And my son, what does he say? ” 

“ He says nothing, madame, but — ” 

“But what?” 

“I have nothing to tell you. You will be a better 
judge than I of what should be done. Can you pardon 
my audacity?” added she, humbly. 

Nadia drew her to her heart. 

“I thank you,” said she, tenderly embracing her. “My 
children will, perhaps, owe you the peace and happiness 
of their lives!” 

On the evening of the next day, just as the family had 
gathered around the fire in the dining-room, Pierre 
entered, accompanied by his friend Nicholas Stepline. 
Madame Korzof took a comprehensive glance at the new 
arrival and formed this opinion of him: boorish and 
ambitious. 

Sophie formed no judgment. Utterly overwhelmed 
with joy at having recovered the caresses of her mother, 
who that morning had awakened her with a kiss, as had 
been her custom in the past, she was living in a sort of 
ecstacy, and, for the moment, had lost the feelings of 
everyday life. Everything seemed to her beautiful, 
good and lofty; she would have liked to have something 
very difficult given her to do in order to accomplish it 
quickly and enthusiastically ; her gratitude to Fate for 
having restored to her arms her adored mother, so long 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


183 


lost, overflowed upon those who surrounded her, even 
upon Martha, who smiled silently and kept her secret. 
Nothing could have mortified the excellent girl more 
than to see unveiled the mystery by which this mother 
had been restored to her children. 

Certain beings are ashamed of their good actions ; this 
is, doubtless, to balance the glory that others take to 
themselves for their crimes. 

A new life, a sort of resurrection of joy and love, 
brightened up the hospital again. The remembrance of 
Doctor Korzof, the martyr to his duty, yet hovered over 
everybody ; but, as he himself would have desired, it was 
as an aureole and not as a shadow. 

Nadia herself once more learned to love life, not for its 
joys — she could no longer appreciate them — but for its 
duties. One clings to one’s duties infinitely more than 
to one’s pleasures. This mother, feeling that she had 
something with which to reproach herself, began to 
observe her children attentively, and obtained proof of 
the fact that she had, indeed, neglected them for a long 
time. 

Pierre had become very independent, too much so, 
perhaps, in his relations with people, his habits and his 
tastes. At the moment when the lost paternal surveil- 
lance should have been replaced by that of his mother 
he had found himself almost master of his own actions ; 
inevitably he had availed himself of his liberty to com- 
mit indiscretions. 

One of the most important of these had been his close 
acquaintance with Nicholas Stepline. 

The latter was a representative of a group and of an 
idea, if so be one can call “an idea” that which consists 
in not having any. Boorish and ambitious, as Madame 
Korzof had judged him, Stepline was, besides, very crafty. 
He converted into a tower of strength what another 


184 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


would have considered a weakness ; his lack of advan- 
tages and the natural coarseness of his person were for 
him means of action; he said a disagreeable thing 
squarely to no matter whom, and immediately passed for 
a man so frank that he could not conceal his manner of 
seeing. 

This role of peasant of the Danube was, it is true, the 
only one Stepline could enact ; but it was something to 
have assumed it without difficulty, without ever com- 
mitting an error or a weakness. 

How did this boor find favor with Pierre. Korzof? 

Simply by that threadbare but always successful 
method that consists in hurling into the faces of people 
some enormous piece of flattery, seasoned with a bit of 
rudeness. Can you question the sincerity of a creature 
who finds in you simultaneously a perfection you are 
doubtful about possessing and a defect you know you 
have? 

When, after having met at the same course of lectures, 
a long-sought chance brought Pierre Korzof and Nicholas 
Stepline face to face, the latter went straight up to the 
doctor’s son. * 

“I never imagined,” said he to him, point-blank, “that 
a nobleman’s son could be good for anything; you have 
demolished one of my cherished ideas ! ” 

“Which? ” said Pierre, somewhat hurt. 

“I believed that a choice and corrupt education, like 
your education as the eldest son of a Count, could produce 
only withered fruit, and yet I find in you the honor of 
our school! I had prejudices; it is vexatious to lose 
them; one clings to his prejudices!” 

How are we to escape flattery? The youthful brain 
of Pierre was altogether intoxicated by this unexpected 
compliment. 

“Do you remember that I beat }^ou once?” continued 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


185 


Stepline, coolly. “Have you any spite against me for it? 
If so, speak out! That thrashing cost us dear; my father 
was ruined by it, for it caused him to lose the position 
that furnished him with the means of living!” 

This was an audacious falsehood, but Stepline was play- 
ing all against all. The game was fine enough to be worth 
this stake. 

“What!” cried Pierre, moved by that feeling of 
juvenile generosity, absolutely unreasonable, ridiculous 
and stupid, that causes so many foolish deeds, and that, 
nevertheless, renders youth so sympathetic, “was it 
you ? ” 

“Yes, it was I. My family paid for my brutality with 
ten years of poverty. But my father gave me an educa- 
tion notwithstanding, and I doubly thank him for it.” 

“Ah, how much I regret, how much I regret that I 
was the cause of your father’s trouble!” cried Pierre, 
grasping Stepline’s hand. 

From that day they were intimate friends. Young 
Korzof was anxious to show himself as destitute of 
aristocratic feelings as his friend ; he colored every time 
the latter alluded to his superior birth, to the luxury of 
his existence and to the subordinate position formerly 
held by Feodor on the Prince’s estate. These were so 
many thorns that the malicious Nicholas stuck in his 
flesh at the tenderest spot; the more Nicholas doubted the 
democratic tastes of his new friend, the deeper Pierre 
plunged into the exaggerations of the new doctrine, so 
it happened that he ultimately showed himself more 
radical than the radicals themselves. 

It was at this moment that Stepline asked to be intro- 
duced into the Korzof mansion. He longed to be received 
as a guest, on a footing of equality, by that family to 
whom his grandfather had been a servant. 

“What do you think of my sister?” asked Pierre of 


186 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


his friend, when they met on the day after the presenta- 
tion. 

“ What do you want me to think of her? ” answered the 
other, in a peevish tone. “She seems intelligent enough, 
but these demoiselles of high society are all affected ! ” 

“ My sister is not affected ! ” cried Pierre, stung to the 
quick by this insinuation. “Cannot you believe that a 
young girl, brought up in the principles my father and 
mother professed to the extent of despoiling themselves 
of their fortune as they did, cannot be as intelligent as 
we and share our ideas? ” 

“If she shares our ideas it is different,” muttered 
Stepline, hiding his satisfaction ; “ but that remains to 
be seen — I cannot take your word for it.” 

“ What is there to prevent you from talking with her? 
Then you will see that I have not deceived you.” 

The year of mourning had expired. Yielding to the 
instigations of his new friend, Pierre asked his mother’s 
permission to have once a week a reunion of several of 
his chosen comrades at his home. 

Madame Korzof put no obstacle in the way of this. 
At her house, at least, she was certain that her son would 
not be drawn into any reprehensible error. About ten 
o’clock in the evening she sent tea to the young men in 
Pierre’s apartments. One night the latter asked permis- 
sion to bring his friends into the dining-room. From 
that time every Thursday evening, after the conference 
that served as a pretext for these reunions, Pierre’s three 
or four friends were admitted into the society of the 
young girls. 

They did not appear to be charmed by this; the 
majority of them preferred Pierre’s study, where they 
could smoke at their ease; but Stepline had his idea. 
Insensibly he and Sophie glided into one of those inti- 
macies frequent in Russia between young men and young 


NICHOLAS STEPLINE. 


187 


girls, in the course of which they chat together as if they 
were comrades of the same sex, though the conversation 
never goes beyond the limits of the strictest propriety. 

In this instance the proprieties were observed the most 
rigorously in the world ; but Sophie’s already excited 
mind was drawn toward regions inaccessible to the vulgar, 
that is to say to those with common sense. The ideas 
of sacrifice and abnegation, that in the past had domi- 
nated her mother, had reappeared in her under a more 
modern and more dangerous form, for she had not the 
counterbalance that had saved Nadia. 

The latter had imparted all her impressions to her 
father, whose mildly jeering wit had constantly held her 
back from a dangerous declivity; Sophie did not tell her 
mother half she thought. During Korzofs lifetime she 
had not hidden from him one of her reflections; but the 
long year of reserve that had elapsed since then had 
habituated her to concentrating her ideas in herself. 
And, besides, a vague fear warned her that Nadia would 
not approve of certain things. Sophie was already very 
far advanced in the path of error. 

By means of the same pretense of rough sincerity 
that had acted so powerfully upon the mind of the 
brother, Nicholas Stepline took possession of that of the 
sister. He cunningly took advantage of that enthusiastic 
child’s generous feelings. He pictured a social state in 
which those possessed of great fortunes would consider 
it a duty of honor to ally themselves with poor families ; 
he expressed a profound contempt for women of society 
who live in society: it was only by mingling with the 
people that they would purify their impure wealth. 

Shrewder than one would have supposed him, he took 
good care not to mention love — he talked only of duty. 

He knew that Sophie could not fall in love with him: 
he knew that this young girl, brought up amid elegance 


188 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


and the most refined taste, could not find charms in a 
peasant but partially shorn of his clownishness; he, 
therefore, cunningly presented to her the sacrifice of 
herself as an apostleship. 

He found few obstacles in the way of the execution of 
his project because, not in any manner paying court to 
the young girl, he could not be considered dangerous 
either by herself or her mother. He always spoke from 
a general point of view and made no personal allusions. 

Nevertheless, warned by a secret instinct, Yolodia 
looked upon him with distrust that closely approached 
hate. He strove, sometimes alone, sometimes through 
Martha, who shared his fears, to keep informed of the 
change that was being wrought in Sophie’s mind. Yain 
labor; Sophie had become a closed book. 

At last she spoke, and that day was a very sad one 
for the Korzof family. 


0 


CHAPTER XI. 

TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 

On her nineteenth birthday, in the presence of her 
brother, Martha and Yolodia, Sophie said calmly to 
Nadia : 

“ Mother, I ask your permission to marry Nicholas 
Stepline!” 

Martha was thunderstruck and Yolodia filled with 
dismay. 

Sophie’s request was so unforeseen and in every point 
of view so absurd that Madame Korzof was stunned by 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


189 


it and thought she had misunderstood her daughter’s 
words. 

“ I did not understand you,” said she to Sophie, who 
was awaiting her answer with an appearance of calmness. 

“I asked, mother, your permission to marry Nicholas 
Stepline.” 

“Is it possible that you love him?” cried Nadia, 
utterly overwhelmed. 

Sophie raised her pure and limpid eyes to her mother. 

“No,” said she. “Why should I love him? The 
matter at issue is the repairing of an injustice of fate ; I 
will try my best to accomplish it ; there is no need of 
love for that.” 

“Unhappy child!” said Madame Korzof, going to her 
and taking her in her arms, “who has put such things 
into your mind? Has the example of your father and 
myself ever permitted you to conceive the idea of a 
marriage without sympathy, without suitableness, with- 
out love? That boorish, brutal, ill-bred fellow beside 
you, my daughter! You have not given the matter an 
instant’s reflection! You have yielded to an interested 
domination and have allowed yourself to be convinced. 
It is a passing folly, my child, is it not? , We will talk 
it over calmly and you will understand — ” 

“Mother,” interrupted Sophie, firmly, “I wish to 
marry Nicholas Stepline. In our day of social inequality 
it is the duty of every intelligent and well-wishing being 
to repair as much as possible the injustice of fate. It is 
for rich women to marry poor and intelligent men, that 
they may thus serve the cause of civilization and that 
of the people.” 

“Oh!” cried Nadia, hiding her face in her hands. 

It was the same language she had employed with her 
father in the past. These were almost her very words. 
She recollected all this now. From the depths of her 


190 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


memory rose up the scene in the garden of Peterhof, 
where she had made her rash vow. She had realized 
her dream, and her dream had given her happiness ; but 
she had found upon her road a grand and noble being — 
love without bounds. Her dream had taken body with- 
out compelling her to lower herself: on the contrary, she 
had drawn it up to her. Were the same chimeras, the 
same utopian ideas now about to destroy her own child ? 

“My daughter I” said she, “you chastise me cruelly 
for my imprudence. Either I have not done my whole 
duty toward you, or I have done it ill. In both cases 
you are the instrument of my punishment; I did not 
think I deserved that.” 

Sophie threw herself into Nadia’s arms. 

“ My cherished mother,” said she, “ I love and vener- 
ate you; but those are the principles you have professed 
all your life; you cannot condemn them to-day.” 

“ The principles are not reprehensible, Sophie,” said 
Yolodia, in his grave voice, “but the application you 
make of them.” 

Up to that instant none had spoken save Nadia and 
her daughter; now everybody except Pierre began to 
speak simultaneously. 

Pierre, embarrassed, remained mute. This scene had 
about it nothing unexpected for him : for too long he 
had heard enunciated by his friend the ideas to which 
Sophie now gave such a sad consecration. Until that 
instant those ideas had not shocked him. Suddenly, at 
the thought of seeing his sister united to Stepline, he 
had recoiled internally and been confounded. 

“Brother,” said the young girl, turning toward him, 
“ why do you not come to my assistance ? ” 

Nadia looked at her son with a severe air; it was he 
who had introduced Stepline into the house; he was in 
part responsible for what had happened. 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


191 


“ What, Pierre I ” continued Sophie, “have you nothing 
to say? A hundred times you have endorsed those 
ideas; then, you thought them grand and generous; are 
you going to abandon me the moment I put them in 
practice?” 

Madame Korzof looked by turns at her two children, 
with a painful emotion. Alas ! Martha had warned her 
too late! While, all alone, she was living among her 
widow’s souvenirs, she had«allowed the hearts of her son 
and daughter to wander far away from her. 

Kind-hearted Martha read her thoughts upon her 
countenance and approached her very gently. Nadia 
understood her and pressed her hand, without speaking. 

“ I see, mother,” resumed Sophie, “ that my request 
has taken you by surprise; therefore, I ask you to make 
no decision now.” 

“ Whence does she get this calmness?” cried Madame 
Korzof, instantly recovering her presence of mind; “she 
overwhelms us with her mad ideas, and, while we stand 
dismayed, she reasons tranquilly, like a general of the 
army arranging his troops. Sophie, have I been deceived 
in you? — have you no heart?” 

A sudden flush, followed by a waxen pallor, spread 
over Sophie’s face; she lowered her eyes and stood 
motionless. 

Of all the painful things in the world her mother had 
just found that which she could feel the most. Sophie’s 
ardent and spontaneous nature was doing itself an 
extreme violence to present the appearance of calmness 
that so shocked those about her, but they could not 
comprehend it. 

“ Madame,” said Volodia, in the midst of the general 
consternation, “ will you permit me to have an instant’s 
interview with Sophie?” 

Martha glanced at her brother in surprise. What was 


192 


TROUBLE UrOX TROUBLE. 


lie going to say? Was lie about to reveal his secret? 
The moment seemed ill-chosen. Madame Korzof was on 
the point of replying, but her daughter got the start 
of her. 

“I wish to hear nothing from you, Volodia,” said she 
to the young man in a haughty tone ; “ we do not share 
the same ideas, we could not understand each other.” 

“Very well,” said Nadia, ruffled by this attitude; 
“ since you have forgotten all who are near and should 
be dear to you, go to your chamber, my daughter; later, 
we will have an interview.” 

Sophie, with her head held high, passed through the 
midst of the dismayed family and vanished without 
turning around. 

“ Now, Pierre, explain this to me ! ” cried Nadia, forcing 
herself to be calm. “ Have you also experienced a change 
of heart? If it be true that I have neglected you both — ” 

“Oh, mother!” said the young man, in a supplicating 
voice. 

Nadia interrupted him with a gesture. 

“ If it be true that I have neglected you and your 
sister, you, Pierre, were rendered only the more respon- 
sible thereby. You now have age on your side — you 
know what social life is, what marriage is. During his 
lifetime your father talked to you of those matters. He 
did not neglect his duty,” added she, bitterly. “ Why 
did you not watch over your sister?” 

Pierre had bowed his head in confusion; he raised it 
with a movement full of dignity. 

“Mother,” said he, impressively, “I never for a 
moment thought that the generous principles in which 
we all believe could produce such* sad results when put 
in practice. When all of us here said and repeated that 
the only way to repair the inequalities of fate was to 
pour wealth into the hands of those who, though active 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


193 


and intelligent, were condemned to remain in obscurity 
because destitute of fortune, we believed we were pro- 
fessing a grand and generous doctrine. If Stepline were 
other than he is, would Sophie be so culpable?” 

For a moment Nadia did not reply. A mighty strug- 
gle was taking place within her. All her life she had 
believed herself free. from aristocratic prejudices; in the 
past, she had herself announced her intention to marry a 
man sprung from the ranks of the people; but she had 
not met that man. Now that a poor and intelligent man 
aspired to her daughter’s hand all her pride revolted, 
struggle as she might. 

“Mother,” resumed Pierre, in the most respectful tone, 
“is it the person of Stepline or his origin that displeases 
you?” 

Madame Korzof made an effort worthy of herself and 
replied, firmly: 

“It is his person. If it were otherwise, son of a super- 
intendent as he is, if he had the external merits that 
come from moral qualities, I would accept him as my 
son-in-law without regret. But I have a natural aversion 
for this young man. Nothing noble can come from him; 
he is selfish by nature.” 

Pierre felt that he was vanquished. More than once 
during the past six months he had felt the rough sides of 
his comrade’s nature shock him with the sharpness of a 
discord. He had reproached himself for having been too 
ready to admit this stranger to his friendship, for having 
been too ready to introduce him into a household he 
should have looked upon as sacred. But all this was 
merely imprudence; and when should one be imprudent 
if not at twenty years of age? 

He endeavored, nevertheless, to defend his friend. 

“Selfish, mother, I do not believe him,” said he. 
“Ambitious, well, I have nothing to say on that head. 

12 


194 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


If he desires to attain a lofty position, is it not his right? 
Is it not in some measure his duty ? ” 

“It is one’s right and duty to seek to create a lofty 
position for himself,” answered Nadia, severely, “but 
only on condition that he shall owe it to no one save 
himself. A wife’s fortune should not be the stepping- 
stone of him who seeks her in marriage. He should 
have some merit in himself; without that he is not 
ambitious, he is merely selfish.” 

Pierre bowed silently. 

“Listen to the truth,” continued Nadia: “it is danger- 
ous to put weapons in the hands of children. You play 
with sophisms, and at a given moment they rebound 
against you. While I am striving to make Sophie 
understand the extent of the folly she wishes to commit, 
you will say to your friend, my son, that I beg him not 
to present himself here.” 

“Do not be afraid, mother, he will not come,” said 
Pierre, considerably hurt. “His dignity — ” 

“Don’t talk to me of the dignity of a man who has 
exposed to her mother’s anger the young girl he claims 
to love,” said Madame Korzof. “If he possessed a single 
noble feeling, he would have come to me in person 
instead of making my unhappy child speak for him.” 

This observation was so palpably true that Pierre was 
immediately convinced. Truth to tell, he had defended 
Nicholas from generosity, from a chivalric spirit, but if 
Madame Korzof had suddenly given her consent he 
would have been the first to raise objections. 

Nadia retired to her apartment and Pierre also quitted 
the room. Yolodia’s presence made him feel badly. 
Though Martha’s brother had never exhibited his pri- 
vate feelings, young Korzof felt that his true friend, the 
companion of his childhood and youth, was wounded to 
the depths of his soul. 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


195 


Left alone, Martha and her brother looked at each 
other sadly. 

“I suspected,” said the young man, replying to his 
sister’s thoughts as expressed by her countenance, “that 
she would ultimately commit some terrible folly; and, 
besides, do you know, Martha, that she does not love us 
sufficiently?” 

“You deceive yourself,” said Martha; “she loves us; 
but for some time past she has feared us more than she 
has loved us, and that is why she keeps away from us. 
She is well aware in the depths of her misled, straying 
mind that she is wrong and that we are right.” 

After a short silence she resumed: 

“You heard what she said, Yolodia; she does not love 
that man ! She coldly sacrifices herself to what she con- 
siders her duty. Poor, mad enthusiast! We will not 
abandon her, will we, brother?” 

Yolodia looked interrogatively at his sister; she con- 
tinued : 

“She is obstinate, and Madame Korzof has a will of 
iron; their persistent natures will clash in a terrible 
fashion. If Sophie feels that she is loved by us, if we 
show her the same affection, the same indulgent kindness 
as ever, may we not hope that her soul will open itself 
to our tenderness, that she will at last understand where 
are her family, duty and love? ” 

Yolodia raised to his lips the hand of his sister, so' 
good and so maternal, but answered not, for his soul was 
as sad as death. 

The door reopened and Sophie appeared upon the 
threshold. 

“You desired to speak with me,” said she to the 
young man ; “ what did you wish to say ? ” 

Martha discreetly withdrew ; during such an interview 
her presence could only be hurtful. 


196 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


Yolodia advanced two steps, took the young girl’s 
hand and led her to a chair in which she seated herself. 

“ I wished to tell you,” said he, his heart wrung by 
unspeakable anguish, “ that you have not looked within 
yourself ; when you took your resolution — ” 

“ It is not within one’s self that one should look when 
one desires to do good,” interrupted Sophie ; “ those who 
occupy themselves with themselves are selfish.” 

“One must look within one’s self, nevertheless,” 
insisted Yolodia; “no sentient being has the right to 
willfully neglect a single thing that can weigh in the 
balance of his or her own resolutions. Will you listen 
to me, Sophie, without interrupting me? Answer my 
questions with your usual sincerity, and, when I have 
finished, you can say to me what you like.” 

“Yery well, ’ said she, with a haughty movement of 
the head. 

He stood before her, casting upon her his clear and 
honest glance, just as if she had been a stranger and not 
the being he loved more than his life. 

“We have,” said he, in his grave voice, “duties 
toward humanity, toward society, toward the family and 
toward ourselves ; in asking to marry M. Stepline, 
toward whom do you think you are fulfilling a duty?” 

Sophie hesitated an instant, and, suddenly troubled, 
replied : ” 

“ Toward humanity.” 

“If such be your thought,” resumed Yolodia, “I can 
but approve of it. You cannot, however, ignore the fact 
that at the same time you wound society, your family 
and yourself! ” 

“Society and its prejudices matter very little to me,” 
responded the young girl; “my family love me suffi- 
ciently, I hope, to allow me to fulfill what I consider a 
duty. As to myself — ” she blushed, but looked 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


197 


Volodia resolutely in tlie face. “As to myself, I think 
I am doing right and that is enough for me.” 

The young man bowed. 

“We will talk of something else, then,” said he. 
lf Do you know what marriage is? ” 

Sophie replied, bravely: 

“ It is the union of two similar wills that tend toward 
the same goal.” 

“ Very well. M. Stepline and you have two similar 
wills that tend toward the same goal ; may I ask what 
that goal is?” 

“ To ameliorate the lot of the poor classes, to call to 
the surface those who are in the depths.” 

u And when you have called them to the surface, what 
will you do with them ? ” 

Disconcerted for an instant, Sophie replied almost 
immediately: 

“ Then we will see what is to be done.” 

Yolodia uttered a sigh. 

“That’s it,” said he; “commence by demolishing, 
without knowing what you are going to put in the place 
of the object destroyed] Do you imagine, Sophie, that 
one can thus abolish the habits, customs and principles 
of a nation without giving it anything in exchange for 
them? Do you not see that what you would do in 
a moment is the work of ages; that the defect of our 
country, found even in its people of the best intentions, is 
to act too quickly, and that you wish to act much more 
quickly than they? But I forget myself; we were talk- 
ing of marriage just now. Have you attentively scanned 
that of your parents? No, without doubt. Bred in this 
family and knowing no other, you have not paid atten- 
tion to that which surrounded you. But, having come 
later to your family fireside, I have observed, I have 
compared this union with others and I have bowed with 


198 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


veneration before it, because it realized the ideal of duty 
and happiness upon the earth. 

“Your father loved your mother, Sophie, and if I talk 
to you of this, I who am only a stranger to you and to 
them, it is because the sanctity of their tenderness made 
it an ideal admirable to contemplate. Do you know in 
what the grandeur of that affection consisted? You 
mentioned it a little while ago. Two similar wills tend- 
ing toward the same goal. But those wills were similar, 
mark that. The same spirit of sacrifice animated those 
two souls, resigned in advance to the renunciation of all 
that was not beautiful, good and useful. Those two 
beings had the same tastes, the same education; they 
shared the equal sympathy of those who surrounded 
them. When one saw them, the nobility of their attitude 
was only the reflection of the nobility of their souls; they 
had no need to consult in order to understand each other 
— a glance was sufficient for them; often even that glance 
was useless; they did the same thing at the same 
moment, because their minds were so much alike that 
they thought the same thing at the same time!” 

The young man, overcome by emotion, paused. Sophie 
had listened to him thoughtfully. No; she had never 
noticed that which he now told her of in that simple 
and grand fashion; but her remembrances said to Nadia’s 
daughter that what he had seen was true, and that her 
father and mother had lived together exactly in that 
way. 

“Your father,” resumed he, “was your mother’s equal 
in taste, education and moral status. That was the basis 
of their deep and lasting affection. Never, either alone 
or before the world, did they have to blush the one for 
the other, or to hide from each other a single thought. 
Your mother had exacted the sacrifice of Doctor Korzof s 
fortune, but she brought her own patrimony as an offer- 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


199 


ing, and if you are, in spite of all, rich heirs, it is because 
your wise and prudent grandfather provided for the 
future and did not permit the children that might be 
expected to be despoiled in advance. The most perfect 
equality was found in your father and mother’s union, 
that met with nothing but approbation. Hence it was 
always like an aureole that hovered over the wedded 
pair.” 

“It would be necessary, then,” said Sophie, “that my 
future husband should be as rich as I am, would it? I 
would re-establish the equality, I imagine, by making 
myself as poor as he.” 

“Fortune is nothing in comparison with tastes and 
habits,” replied Volodia, quickly. “ Could you pass your 
life beside a man who did not keep his finger-nails in 
proper order? ” 

Sophie was deeply hurt. Stepline’s nails were far 
from being irreproachable, and she had noticed it; but, 
with the confidence of her age, she thought that she had 
only to say a word to him and he would correct that 
negligence. She cast at Volodia an irritated glance to 
which he did not see fit to pay attention. 

“But there is yet another thing, Sophie,” continued 
he, in a sad and grave tone. “You openly assert that 
you do not love this man, and still you wish to marry 
him. You believe yourself far above other young girls, 
who seek in marriage the sanctification of their love. 
Take care, Sophie ; it is strange language in the mouth 
of a man as young as I am, but I am old through suffer- 
ing, if not through years; you cruelly blame the young 
girls who wed rich men because they are rich; you say 
that they sell themselves for a fortune and a name; but 
you, who would marry without love, for the realization 
of a chimerical fancy, are you not selling yourself for 
ambition ? ” 


200 


TROUBLE UBON TROUBLE. 


“ I ! ” cried Sophie, rising from her chair in irritation, 
“when I put myself above all the meannesses of 
society!” 

“Precisely — to be above others,” continued Yolodia, 
impressively. “ Marriage, as I understand it, Sophie, is 
not that; it is the ceaseless and sacred joy of living with 
the being one prefers, without anything having the right 
to effect a separation; it is the happiness of bringing up 
children that resemble you to respect and love their 
parents; it is the perpetual and ever new communion of 
thoughts and feelings. I shall not marry, Sophie,” added 
he, in a voice suddenly broken, “but I had dreamed for 
you the happiness that is not destined for me, I should 
have been happy — yes, happy — to see you the honored 
wife of a good and honorable man. The future you are 
preparing for yourself tortures me, and I lack the courage 
to be a witness of the sacrifice.” 

“You are thinking of going away?” said Sophie, 
troubled; “where will you go?” 

“I have not yet chosen the city, but I shall leave St. 
Petersburg with the eternal regret of seeing unhappy 
the companion of my youth, my friend, almost my 
sister.” 

He ceased and Sophie maintained silence. Something 
that he had not said seemed to vibrate in the young 
girl’s ears. She strove to recover it in her memory, and 
could seize there only the echo of the words really 
uttered. She glanced up at him : he was not looking at 
her. With eyes lost in space, he seemed to be following 
some floating and far-away image. 

“ I thank you,” said she, striving to steady her trem- 
bling voice. “I do justice to the feeling of friendship 
that inspired your words.” 

“But you are not convinced?” said he, sadly. 

She lowered her head. Convinced, no; shaken, yes. 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


201 


But her self-love, more powerful even than the voice of 
reason, prevented her from avowing it. 

“Adien, Sophie,” said he, extending his hand. 

She gave him hers hesitatingly. 

“You are not going away immediately?” said she. 

“No; but whether I stay or go, it is a real adieu I 
say to you here. I have lost a friend, but you still have 
a brother in me — do not forget it, Sophie.” 

He quitted the apartment so quickly that she had not 
the time to say another word to him. She stood 
motionless for a moment; then she returned to her 
chamber, where she wept without restraint. Why? 
She did not know. 

An hour afterwards her mother sent for her and had 
a long interview with her; as Martha had foreseen, 
Madame Korzof’s authority encountered an insurmount- 
able obstacle in the young girl’s obstinacy. Yolodia’s 
words had moved her: perhaps, with time, under the 
influence of gentleness and argument, they might have 
produced some good result; as it was, their effect was 
destroyed by Nadia’s remonstrances. 

“I will never give my consent to this marriage,” she 
ended by saying, seeing that her arguments had proved 
useless. 

“As you please, mamma,” answered Sophie; “for my 
part, I will never marry a rich man; but, really, I do 
not care much about getting married at all.” 

When these bitter words were spoken, Nadia quitted 
her daughter; she was grieved to the depths of her soul, 
and loaded herself with reproaches that in reality she 
scarcely merited. During the days that followed the 
subject of the marriage was carefully shunned by the 
entire family; but they thought of nothing else, if they 
did not speak about it. 

Pierre had seen Stepline and told him what had taken 


202 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


place, not without heaping reproaches upon him that 
Nicholas accepted with a sullen air. lie did not entrench 
himself behind the stereotyped excuse of a sudden and 
violent passion for her whom he wished to wed; such 
subterfuges were beneath the “ ideas” of this new kind 
of philanthropists. Love, indeed! What idle tales all 
such grand feelings were ! The sole matter at issue was 
to co-operate in the work of the moral liberation of the 
people by the people! 

Pierre Korzof did not understand life altogether in this 
way; the example and the principles of his parents had 
saved him from this glorious contempt for the noblest 
feelings of human nature. Therefore he experienced a 
most profound disillusion on hearing the answers his 
comrade made to the objections with which he over- 
whelmed him. What! not a spark of feeling — nothing 
but cold reasoning? 

“But, after all,” said Pierre to Stepline, suddenly, “you 
do not understand what vexes me, do you? It is that 
you have the air of seeking to wed my sister solely for 
her fortune ! ” 

“Not in the least,” coldly replied Nicholas; “she is 
very intelligent and will be exceedingly useful to us.” 

Pierre’s heart froze. His dear and charming sister 
wedded with a design. of utility 1 His soul of twenty 
years could not accept this fashion of looking at life. He 
mentally cast his eyes around him and saw that Stepline 
was not the only one who harbored such thoughts. 

Deceived by a false self-denial, by a mendacious 
appearance of grandeur, a whole class of young men 
thought and acted in the same way in that circle that 
should have been intelligent but had become almost silly 
by dint of absurdity. Pierre perceived that what he had 
taken for inoffensive jests, addressed to his enthusiasm 
and exuberance, was in reality a sharp criticism. In this 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


203 


society of formidable stoics, who had raised indifference 
to the height of a virtue, he found himself mistaken and 
unhappy. He gradually withdrew from it and sought to 
become reconciled with Yolodia. 

The latter gave him a kindly welcome, but he had 
grown so sad and grave that Pierre thought his bearing 
a covert reproach. In reality, Yolodia had no such 
thought; but one does not make the sacrifice of the joys 
of his life without a shadow falling upon him. Thus 
everybody was unhappy in that mansion, where every- 
thing had seemed to offer guarantees of happiness to all. 

Stepline, though banished, did not renounce his pro- 
jects. Sophie, on the contrary, bore the indefinite 
adjournment of her plans with a resigned patience that 
did not cause her the slightest suffering. She would 
even have renounced them without much trouble if she 
had not deemed that yielding to the maternal law. Too 
good and too pure to think for an instant of correspond- 
ing with the man she was not allowed to marry, her great- 
est regret was at being unable to serve the “idea” for 
which she had formerly been inflamed with such ardent 
zeal. 

She continued her daily promenades with Martha, and 
from time to time met Nicholas Stepline, who on such 
occasions addressed to her a significant salutation. She 
answered it with a slight nod of the head, for she felt ill 
at ease and, to tell the truth, dreaded these meetings, after 
which she was always dissatisfied with herself. 

One day, while she was making purchases with 
Martha on the Gostinoi Dvor, the latter, having some- 
thing to attend to in a very much crowded perfumery 
store, left her in the street and made her way into the 
midst of the concourse. 

It was the last week of Lent : people were thronging 
to purchase articles for Easter gifts, and both inside and 


204 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


outside of the stores there was great difficulty in moving 
about. 

The traveling street merchants deafened the buyers 
with the praise and the prices of their wares ; the orange 
venders displayed their flat baskets packed with golden 
fruit ; the Greeks weighed, with a smile as agreeable as 
their dainties, the various pastes from Constantinople ; 
cheap toys rolled from the sidewalks into the middle of 
the thoroughfares; everywhere reigned a jo}^ous clamor, 
amid which could be distinguished the shouts of the 
isvochtchiks, quarreling as to which should have the 
customers. 

Pensive, astonished by this tumult that occurs but once 
a year, at this consecrated epoch that precedes the medi- 
tations of the holy week, Sophie was gazing with an 
inattentive eye at the displays in the windows of the 
jewelers’ stores, when she felt some one touch her on the 
arm. She raised her eyes ; Stepline was before her. 

“Well?” said he, roughly. 

“What?” responded she, with a sort of revolt against 
this blunt way of addressing her. 

“So they will not permit you? And do you submit?” 
said Nicholas. 

“My mother has refused me her consent,” answered 
she, without emotion. 

She looked at him, and suddenly saw that he was ugly, 
vulgar and mean. 

“And you cannot act without it?” said he, in a dis- 
contented tone. 

“No,” replied she. “She is my mother; I love her 
and do not wish to afflict her.” 

“ Can she disinherit you ? ” demanded he with a sudden 
haste and as if frightened. “ I thought the Prince, your 
grandfather, bequeathed his fortune direct to you.” 

“And so he did,” said she, altogether surprised at 
what she felt within herself. 


TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. 


205 


Stepline uttered a deep sigh of relief. 

“Well, then, what are you waiting for? ’ said he, 
with a smile that Sophie found disgusting. “ I have 
followed you long enough without finding a favorable 
occasion to speak to you. Let us go together.” 

“ How ? ” exclaimed Sophie, drawing back so suddenly 
that she came in collision with a passer-by. 

“ Let us go together ! W e can be married after Easter. 
We shall never again have such a chance. Come ! ” 

He had laid his thick red hand on the young girl’s 
arm ; she trembled with horror. 

“ Martha ! ” cried she, instinctively drawing near to 
the store into which her companion had gone. 

“ Don’t be stupid ! ” muttered Stepline, without releas- 
ing her; “you are attracting attention.” 

The thought that, in fact, she was protected by the 
dense crowd surrounding her restored to Sophie the self- 
possession she had for an instant lost ; she turned away 
without haste and placed her hand that was free upon 
the knob of the glazed door, that opened softly; with her 
eyes fixed upon those of Stepline, whom she enveloped 
with a crushing look, she entered the store, walking 
backwards, and, overcome by the penetrating odor of the 
perfumery, vanquished by the emotion she had just 
experienced, staggered. Martha caught her in her arms. 

“What is the matter?” said she, terrified. 

“Let us return home, quick! quick!” said Sophie, 
recovering her senses. 

They sent for their carriage, that made its way, not 
without trouble, in front of the store. Escorted by one 
of the clerks, they entered it. 

In vain did Sophie glance around her — Stepline had 
vanished. 


206 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


CHAPTER XII. 

FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 

On - returning to the hospital Sophie’s first act was to 
hasten to her mother. The latter, a trifle indisposed, 
had remained in her chamber and was dozing in her 
reclining-chair when her daughter entered. Sophie 
approached very softly and stood motionless beside the 
beloved sleeper. 

Nadia’s fair features had been gradually transformed 
in the struggle of years; her smiling countenance had 
grown serious; a great wrinkle hollowed out by grief 
now ran from her eyes to her mouth, and down it many 
tears had flowed ; her brown hair, still heavy and mag- 
nificent, was almost half- marbled with silver threads. 
She was no longer Nadia Roubine; she was Madame 
Korzof, the widow, exhausted by life and, perhaps, also 
of late by the chagrin of having to suffer through her 
children. 

Sophie, as she gazed at her, felt a thousand emotions 
pass through her soul. She called to mind her mother 
in the time of her youth and joy, when, yet a young 
wife, she played with her son and daughter in the alleys 
of Spask, when she took them to those children’s balls, 
frequent in Russia, at which the mothers enjoy pleasures 
so fresh and delicate in seeing develop under their eyes 
the infantile graces of their dear little ones. Nadia was 
quite another being in those days. 

A more recent souvenir came to her memory : a little 
while before the fatal epidemic appeared in St. Petersburg 
Monsieur and Madame Korzof went to a grand reception 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


207 


at the residence of a high personage; Sophie again saw 
before her the radiant apparition of her mother, clad in a 
sumptuous dress of white silk with magnificent folds, 
decked with all her diamonds, that sparkled on her neck 
and in her hair, the rich and dark hue of the latter being 
in nowise impaired at that period. 

Scarcely three years had elapsed since then, and yet 
it was another woman who was sleeping beneath Sophie’s 
eyes. Grief had done its work, and Nadia would bear 
forever the indelible mark of suffering, more pitiless still 
than that of a red-hot iron. 

The young girl, filled with a profound respect, with an 
unspeakable regret, sank on her knees beside the recli- 
ning-chair, her head between her hands, saying almost in 
a whisper: 

“ Oh ! my mother ! ” 

Nadia made a slight movement and opened her eyes; 
her daughter’s tearful glance met hers. 

“You here!” exclaimed she, raising herself upon her 
elbow. 

“ I was watching you sleep. Oh ! mamma, I have 
been foolish and very much to blame. I have given you 
pain. If you could only look within my heart and see 
how much I regret it ! ” 

Nadia was alarmed. What could have happened that 
her daughter was thus tamed and submissive? No mis- 
fortune, at least? Sophie replied, not to her words, but 
to the interrogation contained in her look: 

“ Nothing has happened, mamma ; only on the Gostinoi 
Dvor, while I was waiting for Martha, who was making 
a purchase, that — that man approached me.” 

Nadia sat erect in the reclining-chair and leaned 
toward her daughter to get a better view of her. 

“He asked me if I was the direct heir of my grand- 
father ; naturally, I answered yes ; then — ” 


208 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


“ What then? ” asked Nadia, breathlessly. 

“ Then he told me to come with him and placed his 
hand upon my arm. Oh ! mamma I ” exclaimed the 
young girl, with a cry of horror, “I know not what took 
place within me ; I felt such disgust, such humiliation, 
that I thought I would sink to the pavement ; I entered 
the store where I found Martha.” 

“Is that all?” demanded Nadia, who was holding 
both her daughter’s hands. 

“It is all. No, mamma, I could never tell you what 
I felt — what shame, what a disillusion! — and my aim 
was so lofty, too! Is it possible that there are men who 
wish to marry women merely for their wealth? And, 
besides, to propose to me to come with him! Did he 
really think I could do it ? Are there women who go 
away like that with men they do not know, who leave 
their families and their mothers?” 

“All that exists, my child,” said Nadia, sadly; “it 
exists even in the circle of society in which we live; but 
in that circle a varnish of politeness and decorum covers 
the vices and the errors. Of course, you think this an 
evil, but I tell you it is an advantage. A man of our 
circle, no matter how sordid, would have approached you 
cautiously; he would have been prudent in his questions, 
would have seemed delicate in his manner of speaking to 
you, and never would he have inflicted the insult upon 
you that you feel so keenly. Society is full of men 
seeking for marriage-portions, and half the matches are 
thus made; but when one loves, only a partial evil is 
done, because one pardons everything in the man one 
loves. Do you remember that what I blamed you for 
was wishing to marry this man without loving him in 
consequence of your false notion of duty?” 

Sophie nodded her head affirmatively. 

“My daughter,” continued Madame Korzof, “duty is 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


209 


the most sacred thing in the world; no one has made 
more sacrifices to it than I.” 

She paused; gazing straight before her, she, doubt- 
less, saw floating the image of Dmitri, whom she had 
sacrificed in advance to the great duty toward humanity. 
She resumed almost immediately: 

“I have given all to duty: my position, my fortune, my 
husband and even my daughter’s love ; for I assure you, 
Sophie, that I would never have bent either before your 
prayers or before your coldness. With torn heart, I 
would have resisted always.” 

Sophie piously kissed her mother’s hand. 

“And now I will tell you my secret thoughts,” con- 
tinued Madame Korzof. “1 have not dreamed of an 
aristocratic marriage for you: that would not harmonize 
with the principles of my whole life; but I would like 
to see you happy, loved, appreciated by a man worthy 
of you. Look around you, my daughter; I will never 
impose anyone upon your preference; but if you look 
attentively among the intelligent, honest and well-bred 
people who surround us, you will certainly find the man 
who is destined for you. I do not desire that he be rich, 
Sophie; I prefer that he be poor; but I would like him 
to possess love for work and respect for honor.” 

She ceased. Sophie expected a name, but she did not 
speak it. Taking in her arms the beloved daughter who 
was restored to her, she covered her with caresses that 
the latter received with a mixture of gratitude, affection 
and regret. 

For some months the feeling of regret for the trouble 
she had caused her mother had mingled with her 
existence and clouded her youthful gayety. From that 
day Sophie was another person. She had received the 
first great lesson from fate, and that lesson one never 
forgets. 

13 


210 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


Martha had asked no questions and Sophie had con- 
fided nothing to her; it seemed impossible for her to utter 
Stepline’s name thenceforward. There are things that 
afflict you, and yet, however painful may be the remem- 
brance of them, you can go back to them in thought; 
but there are others that humiliate you, and those you 
cannot think about without keen suffering even worse 
than grief. 

But Madame Korzof had informed her young friend 
of what had taken place; full of pity for Sophie, 
almost grateful to Stepline for having shown himself so 
seasonably in his true light, Martha had again become as 
joyous as in the past. It was she who enlivened with 
her quiet mirth the family repasts over which restraint 
had so long presided, and all the members of the house- 
hold thought well of her in their hearts for her smiling 
goodness. 

Yolodia no longer spoke of going away; had he talked 
with Martha? — had she revealed to him the secret of the 
change in Sophie? This was a secret between the 
brother and sister. But, while showing the greatest 
prudence in regard to the young girl, whose jealous pride 
he was afraid of wounding, he had resumed toward her 
the attitude of affectionate confidence that had for such 
a length of time constituted the joy of their existence. 
Nevertheless, he said but little to her and avoided being 
alone in her company. 

The days had perceptibly lengthened; already they 
had ceased to dine by the light of lamps, and, though 
April was, as is always the case in Russia, the month of 
sharp gales and whirlwinds of dust, a certain delight 
made itself felt in those long days of sunshine and blue 
sky. 

On one occasion, about six o’clock in the evening, Pierre 
was coming up the Perspective Nevsky; he was returning 


FROM SORROW TO BUSS. 


211 


to the hospital, after a day of toil at the library, followed 
by a little loitering in the streets, and was walking with 
an elastic step, for lie felt light-hearted. Suddenly, rais- 
ing his head, he saw before him, at some distance, the 
somewhat massive silhouette of Nicholas Stepline. 
Pierre would have preferred to avoid him; but his com- 
rade was waiting for him in a fashion so evident that to 
draw back seemed impossible. He, therefore, advanced 
a few steps. Stepline did not stir. When they were 
beside each other they bowed without shaking hands. 
Pierre was embarrassed, while Nicholas was perfectly at 
ease. But few people were passing at that hour. 

“How are you?” said the honest Korzof, not knowing 
what attitude to assume In the depths of his soul, he 
despised his former friend, but his good breeding imposed 
upon him the duty of concealing his contempt. 

“I am very well,” answered Nicholas, with an exceed- 
ingly calm air. “Really, you aristocrats are people of 
your word ! ” 

Pierre felt like a willing horse struck by a whip. 

“And you plebeians,” said he, controlling himself, “have 
a singular manner of comprehending honor!” 

“1 have nothing to reproach myself with; your sister 
promised — ” 

“1 forbid you to utter my sister’s name!” cried Pierre, 
in a terrible fury. “ My sister is a good and pure girl ; 
you are a scoundrel with a sordid and vile soul; you have 
no manly feeling for her — only the thirst for money!” 

“False brother,” said Stepline between his teeth, “false 
brother who betrays his beliefs!” 

Pierre measured the man before him with a look and 
suddenly grew calm. 

“I betray nothing,” said he with disdain. “You wished 
to initiate me in I know not what principles, that you are 
not even in a condition to understand. There are men 


212 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


who believe in them, who risk their lives for them ; false 
or true, they sacrifice themselves for their ideas; but you 
are not of that kind. You abused my friendship to gain 
an introduction to our house, to turn the head — not the 
heart, God be praised ! — of a poor girl, whose generous 
thoughts made themselves your accomplices. You are a 
scoundrel! If we had been poor, you would have had no 
friendship for us. It is you who are a false brother, and 
I disown you! ” 

“ Very well,” said Stepline, turning on his heel. 

Pierre caught him by the sleeve of his paletot and 
stopped him. 

“Keep out of the way,” said he, “and do not present 
yourself upon our road : I have an old debt to pay you. 
Many years ago, taking advantage of the fact that I was 
a courteous, well-bred child, you struck me without pro- 
vocation for the wicked pleasure of doing evil. I have 
not returned you that blow. Never cross my path, lor I 
will settle with you at the same time lor the old offense 
and the new ! ” 

Stepline cast at him a look full of hate. If it had been 
night, in a deserted spot, perhaps Pierre would have paid 
dear for his imprudent outbreak, but the sun was sending 
its golden rays over the houses, some carriages 'were 
rolling along the street and the stores were open; a few 
paces away, an agent of police, with his hands behind 
liis back, was watching two dogs playing together. 

“Adieu,” said Stepline, turning his back on his former 
friend. 

Pierre was already walking rapidly toward the hospi- 
tal. On the threshold he met Yolodia, who also had 
returned. 

“ I have just told Stepline what I think of him,” said 
young Korzof, his eyes still flashing with his recent 
anger. 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


213 


“Ah !> n exclaimed Yolodia, whose cheeks flushed, “that 
was right. No quarrel, I hope ? ” 

“No; I simply told him the truth. Ah! my dear 
friend, I feel better ! A weight is removed from my heart 
that has long been pressing upon it.” 

Together they quietly passed through the vast gate 
that received all the sick ; they entered the building 
erected by Nadia and Dmitri amid the generous outbursts 
of their youthful years, and suddenly Pierre was seized 
with veneration. 

“ It was my father who built this,” said he to Yolodia, 
speaking in a low voice as if in a church. 

“Yes, it was your father, and this is only the visible 
proof of his work; but his work is otherwise grand and 
durable. These stones will crumble away some day, my 
friend, for everything goes to ruin beneath the hand of 
Time. The imperishable work is the good we do, the 
suffering people cured, the hearts consoled, the light of 
duty and of sacrifice profusely spread in souls. That is 
what outlives our bodies, what survives centuries. 
Though the name of your parents may have been long 
forgotten, Pierre, the immortal seed of gratitude and love 
planted in the minds that felt their influence will, never- 
theless, bear glorious fruit forever. I also am the son of 
their thoughts; I owe them all that is good and lofty in 
my soul, and the burden of my gratitude is sweet for me 
to carry.” 

The light of evening flooded the porch where they 
stood. Behind them, the vast stairway had a somber 
look. 

“See, Pierre,” resumed the young man, as he crossed 
the threshold; “this picture represents life: on one side 
everything is dark, if we compare it with the light of 
happiness that blinds us; when we have dreamed or 
believed we have attained some joy, when the enthu- 


214 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


siasm of virtue has illuminated us with its flame and we 
afterward turn back toward ordinary existence, we feel 
frozen and gloomy, for life is made up of struggles and 
cares. But little by little our eyes grow accustomed to 
the darkness and we perceive that we can see plainly in 
it; the same light penetrates everywhere; only, instead 
of entering some places like a ray that illuminates and 
warms, it penetrates there as if sifted and measured. 
Alas! we cannot always live in the broad sunlight! 
Happy the souls contented with that calm light in which 
one can work and fulfill one’s duty! And is not the 
fulfillment of one’s duty the aim and the means of 
existence? ” 

They had slowly ascended the stairway and paused in 
front of a wide glazed partition, situated toward the 
north, that filled the vast enclosure with an equal and 
peaceful light. Pierre stretched out to Volodia his arms 
full of strength and life. 

“ My brother! ” said he, embracing him. 

Above them, on the upper landing, appeared the 
elegant form of Sophie. The low hum of voices had 
notified her of their presence and, surprised to hear them 
talk for so long without seeing them, she had come to 
meet them. Slightly bent forward, she looked at them 
with a strange emotion. 

When Pierre stretched out his arms to his friend, she 
felt her heart leap in her breast, as if she wished to share 
that effusion of tenderness. Yolodia’s words had pene- 
trated to the depths of her soul; yes, this young man 
had been their brother, their elder brother, he who 
advises, sustains and sometimes reprimands. How often, 
while she had rebelled against the blame, though so 
justly measured, cast upon her by this young censor, 
had she not felt within herself that he was right and that 
the most disinterested wisdom alone dictated his words I 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


215 


*' You were listening?” said Pierre, going to liis sister. 

‘ Yes,” replied she, while her glance rested upon 
Volodia, who had turned away. 

‘•You heard what he said?” 

‘ Yes.” 

Pierre looked at Sophie and grasped her hand. His 
soul still too full of the emotion he had just experienced, 
he could not express himself in words. 

When they entered the dining-room Nadia received 
them with this mild reproach : 

“ How late you are, my children ! ” 

“ We have not lost our time, mother,” answered Pierre, 
kissing her hand. 

A divine and calm joy seemed to float over them; 
since the death of Doctor Korzof never had all the 
members of the family felt themselves so closely united. 
For the first time, Nadia, as she gazed at those four 
heads grouped beneath her protection, comprehended 
that, despite her mourning, she could yet be happy. 

The days passed calmly and quietly under the salutary 
influence of this recovered peace. By her affection and 
her submission Sophie endeavored to prove to her 
mother how far removed she was from her former errors, 
and she succeeded without trouble, for Madame Korzof 
thenceforward read her daughter’s soul as if it had been 
an open book. Yolodia had made no further allusions 
to his departure, and no one had again mentioned it to 
him. Martha herself feared to broach the subject, 
although she often saw her brother silent and thoughtful. 

Early in the winter, however, he suddenly announced 
his intention to spend a year abroad. This occurred one 
evening. Sophie had just quitted the piano that was 
still vibrating, and Nadia, seated in the shadow in order 
to spare her eyes that had wept so much, was resting and 
thinking of the fatigues of the day. 


216 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


“You wish to depart?” said she, suddenly brought 
back to reality. 

“Yes; I have been too happy here; you have spared 
me the pains and the straggles of life,” responded he, 
raising to his lips the hand of his benefactress. “I know 
neither solitude nor that furious battle with toil one is 
compelled to fight body to body that he may come off 
victorious. I shall be really a man only when 1 have 
partaken of that bread 1” 

“ I cannot blame you,” said Nadia, slowly, as she 
placed her hand upon the yet bowed head of the young 
man as if she wished to bless him; “you are certainly 
right; but you will leave a great void among us. I had 
thought that you would be here always. However, it is 
a consolation to think that you will return. Never 
forget, Volodia, that your place is here, beside my son, 
beside me.” 

Madame Korzof’s glance wandered around the salon. 

-Martha said nothing. Notified by her brother during 
the day, she had had time to let the first flood of her 
sorrow overflow. Sophie, who had seated herself, and 
was reading a book, did not seem to have heard. 

“You will return, I hope,” repeated Nadia, “never 
again to leave us.” 

Pierre began to build castles in the air. He would 
await his friend’s return to introduce a system of aeration 
invented by him, and superior, he said, to anything of the 
kind yet seen. The salon was speedily full of inter- 
mingled questions and answers. 

When they had separated for the night Volodia entered 
his sister’s chamber. 

“Madame Korzof has just told me,” said Martha, 
“that you will find a credit in your name at Pothsclnld’s 
in Paris, London and Frankfort, so that you can com- 
plete your studies without the least material care.” 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


217 


“That is exactly like her!” said Yolodia, with pro- 
found gratitude. “She is always the same; but, Martha, 
I don’t wish to make use of her money. 1 have saved a 
little by teaching — ” 

“So have I,” interrupted his kind sister; “wait a 
moment and I will tell you the exact sum. For five 
years I have been putting money aside for this day.” 

She showed him with pride the treasure she had 
amassed at the cost of hours of lessons, so often tedious 
and always fatiguing. 

“ I accept, my beloved sister, my other mother,” 
responded Yolodia, his eyes full of tears. “You have 
made me what I am, by your vigilance first, by your 
affection afterward.” 

“ It was I, since you will have it so, and then our 
protectors,” said Martha, modestly. 

“Ah! certainly,” sighed the young man; “but if 
Madame Korzof had not admired your courage and your 
patience when you were playing the piano for the youth- 
ful dancers, in order to be able to pay my expenses, I do 
not see clearly what would have become of us. Let me 
say and think, my dear sister, that I owe to your virtues 
the career that has opened before me.” 

Martha was strongly tempted to say something further, 
but, after mature reflection, she decided not to do so. 

Volodia’s departure was not long delayed; a few days 
afterward he quitted the hospital where until that time 
liis life had been concentrated. Sophie said adieu to 
him like the rest, with the same affectionate solicitude, 
and he went away with a heavy heart, like a person who 
leaves behind him all he holds most dear. 

The year of absence was prolonged to eighteen months. 
W hen he returned, Yolodia was no longer the slight young 
man who had left his friends so sadly ; during his 
absence he had learned the value of life, that of time, and 


218 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


a thousand other things that one acquires only at his 
own expense. He brought back with him the materials 
for a book, in which he hoped to lay the foundation of a 
new system of experiments. He was a man now, a man 
capable of filling an important role in life. 

He found Madame Korzof the same as when he left 
her ; she was continuing a round of duties in which she 
had at last found joys. 

Her beloved husband was never far from her thoughts ; 
at all hours of the day they saw her stop as if she were 
listening to or gazing at an invisible being whom she 
alone distinguished. 

“Mamma is talking with my father,” Sophie was 
accustomed to say on such occasions in a low tone, as 
she placed a finger upon her lips. And such was the 
case. She interrogated in her perplexities the man who 
had for so long possessed the secret of all her thoughts, 
and he answered her, for never had they differed in 
opinion upon questions of duty and right ; she had only 
to seek within herself to find there her husband’s reply. 

Pierre had become an earnest young man, though he 
had need in his turn of that discipline indispensable to a 
retired life; he had not been willing to leave the hospital 
before Volodia’s return, fearing that, in his absence, the 
young men there employed would take too many liberties. 

“It is my turn now!” cried he, joyously, when the 
first fire of questions and answers had somewhat slack- 
ened. “I also am going to take wing, and you will see 
if I do not bring you back ideas, plenty of ideas ! ” 

“ Ah ! ” said Volodia, “ what about your system of 
aeration ? ” 

“ I waited for you a year and a day, my dear friend, as 
they do for things that are lost, and then I tried it 
alone.” 

“And it succeeded?” 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


219 


“Not the least in the world. It is worth nothing 
whatever!” 

He laughed so heartily that everybody joined in the 
chorus. 

The next day, when Volodia entered the dining-room 
for the morning tea, he found Sophie alone before the 
waiter. The previous day they had exchanged only a 
few affectionate words, and he felt the strange impression 
that, although he had talked with her, he had not seen 
her. She greeted him with a smile and he seated him- 
self beside her. 

While she was preparing his cup of tea for him he 
looked at her attentively. She was, perhaps, less pretty 
than she had been some time before in the flower of her 
sixteenth year; but how much gentle gravity her counte- 
nance had acquired! She also had had her share of 
trouble and sorrow; she had emerged from the struggle 
with herself triumphant and calmed, like those who 
know the price of the joys of duty. 

“Well,” said she, “so you have come back at last! I 
hope you will never leave us again ! ” 

She handed him the cup and the silver spoon made a 
slight clatter. He. took the cup and placed it in front 
of him. 

‘ I have debated that question with myself a great 
deal,” said he, gravely ; *' during Pierre’s absence I can- 
not, of course, think of abandoning the hospital; but 
when he returns — ” 

He came to a sudden stop. Sophie’s face was covered 
with blushes. He looked at her and felt that he had 
believed himself stronger than he really was. He had 
been able to live far away from her, with the hope of 
seeing her again ; but if it were necessary to exile him- 
self now, how could he do it ! What, therefore, had been 
the use of his sacrifice? He found himself again at 


220 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


exactly the same point where he had been eighteen 
months ago! She spoke, and her unsteady voice had 
about it something particularly touching. 

“Absences have a good effect,” said she: “ they make 
us appreciate the absent. Do you not think so ? ” 

Yolodia nodded his head affirmatively. 

“ For instance,” continued she, “ when you were with 
us, I saw in you only the severe mentor; when you 
were gone, I cannot tell you how much I missed the 
friend.” 

She paused. He waited for her to continue ; after a 
slight effort she resumed : 

“I have treated you very badly for long years ; it was 
during your absence that I made the discovery; I 
awaited your return with impatience to — ” 

She paused once again. 

“To do what?” said Yolodia, with an encouraging 
smile. 

“ To ask you to forgive me,” said she, holding down 
her head. 

“I never had anything against you,” said he, gravely, 
“and your words of to-day fill me with a profound joy. 
You are now what you ought to be — a daughter worthy 
of her parents.” 

“Oh! no!” said the young girl. “I know how much 
I differ from my mother. Do you remember when I 
misunderstood her ? ” 

“Yes, I remember,” answered Yolodia. 

Sophie blushed. She could not think of the error of 
her life without a feeling of shame, stronger in the 
presence of this young man than of any other. He noticed 
this, and, with his usual delicacy, came to her aid. 

“You were only a child then,” said he; “you had the 
unreasonable tenacity of childhood. All that is very far 
off now; the future is full of joys for you.” 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


221 


“The greatest joy,” said Sophie, without looking at 
him, ‘'is the esteem of those one loves.” 

“You have it,” answered Yolodia, turning away his 
eyes. 

Sophie bent over the waiter as if she had suddenly 
grown near-sighted. 

At that moment Pierre entered, and the conversation 
took a different turn. 

Two weeks later, just as Nadia’s son was in the act of 
locking his trunk for his departure that had been fixed 
on for the next day, Yolodia, very pale and visibly dis- 
turbed, entered his chamber. 

“What ails you?” demanded young Korzof, with a 
calmness that astonished himself. 

“I — I had not sufficiently reflected when I promised 
you to remain here during your absence,” said the 
youthful physician. “I want you to release me from my 
promise. I do not wish to quit the service of the hos- 
pital, as, of course, you understand; I desire merely to 
reside elsewhere. In your absence, alone beneath this 
roof with your mother and your sister — ” 

“Ah ! ” said Pierre, still exceedingly calm: “you didn’t 
think of that until to-day?” 

Yolodia grew more and more disturbed. 

“I did think of it before,” said he, “but I failed to 
recognize the urgency that — ” 

“Very well; you take us a little by surprise, but I 
think I can arrange matters. Lock my trunk while I go 
and see about it; here is the key.” 

He quitted the chamber, leaving his friend to struggle 
as best he might against a refractory lid; in a few 
instants he returned, as calm as ever. 

“Go into the dining-room,” said he. “I have told my 
mother; you will find her there.” 

It was not Nadia Yolodia saw on opening the door; it 


222 


FROM SORROW TO BLISS. 


was Sophie who was waiting for him, standing at the 
window. He was about to retire, all in confusion, when 
the young girl called to him. 

*■ Come here, Volodia,” said she. “ You want to leave 
us ? ” 

He looked at her with eyes full of sadness and 
reproach, then turned away. 

“ I cannot do otherwise,” said he. 

“ Suppose I were to ask you to remain ? ” said she, 
timidly. 

He gave her a hesitating look and met Sophie’s glance, 
full of maidenly tenderness. 

“ I have made you suffer greatly through my defects,” 
continued she, blushing; “it is only just to offer you a 
compensation. Remain here, but remain as the master!” 

Nadia appeared upon the threshold. She glanced at 
the young people and her heart felt a deep joy, long 
desired, long awaited. 

“At last!” said she. “Many years ago, Volodia, I 
chose you as my daughter’s husband! ” 

Pierre’s departure was delayed, for he wished to be 
present at his sister’s marriage. At length, one fine 
winter day, he set out joyously, leaving with his mother 
the youthful couple wedded the day before. Martha 
remained with Nadia to draw her attention somewhat 
from her relative solitude during the honeymoon. 

“ I was born to be an aunt,” said she. “ I have said 
so all my life. Providence knows it too well not to 
grant me nieces and nephews.” 

The hospital restored to their families that year two 
hundred cured patients, who bless the name of Korzof. 


THE END. 


r. 8, PETERSON and BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS!, 

I|&r Orders solicited from Booksellers, Librarians, Canvassers, tfews 
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MftS. E. D E. N. SOUTHWOETH’S FAMOUS WOEKS 

Complete in forty-three, lar je duodecimo volumes , bound in morocco cloth, gilt bask 
price $1.50 each : or $64.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Ishmael; or, In the depths, being Self-Made; or, Out of Depths.... $1 5K 


Sequel to “ Ishmael.” 1 50 

50 The Deserted Wife, 1 50 

The Fortune Seeker, 1 50 

The Bridal Eve, ] 50 

The Lost Heiress, ] 50 

50 
50 


Self Raised; or, From the Depths 

The Mother-in- Law, $1 

The Fatal Secret, 1 

How He Won Her 1 

Fair Play, 1 

The Spectre I Dver, 1 50 The Two Sisters, 1 

Victor’s Triumph, 1 50 Lady of the Isle, 1 

A Beautiful Fiend, 1 50 Prince of Darkness, 1 

The Artist’s Love, 1 50 The Three Beauties, 1 

A Noble Lord, 1 50jVivia; or the Secret of Power, 1 

Lost Heir of Linlithgow 1 50 ' Love’s Labor Won, 1 

Tried for her Life, I 50 The Gipsy’s Prophecy, | 

Cruel as the Grave, 1 50 Retribution, 1 

The Maiden Widow, 1 50 The Christmas Guest 1 

The Family Doom, 1 50 

The Bride’s Fate, 1 50 

The Changed Brides, 1 50 

Fallen Pride, 1 50 

The Widow’s Son, 1 50 


Haunted Homestead, 1 

Wife’s Victory, 1 

Allworth Abbey, 1 

India ; Pearl of Pearl River... 1 
Curse of Clifton, 1 


50 
50 
50 
50 
50 
50 
50 
50 
50 
50 
5(1 
•6 ft 


The Bride of Llewellyn, 1 50 ' Discarded Daughter 1 5# 

The Fatal Marriage, 1 50 ! The Mystery of Dark Hollow,.. 1 5H 

The Missing Bride; or, Miriam, the Avenger, 1 58 

The Phantom Wedding; or, The Fall of the House of Flint, 1 58 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

Self Made; or, Out of the Depths. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth, 
Complete in two volumes, cloth, price $1.50 each, or $3.00 a set. 


CAEOLINE LEE HENTZ’S EXdUISITE BOOKS. 

Complete in twelve large duodecimo volumes, bound in i Morocco cloth, gilt bmchg 
price $1.50 each; or $18.00 a set, each set is put uj in a neat box. 

Ernrst Lin wood, $1 50 j Love after Marriage, $1 60 

The Planter’s Northern Bride,.. 1 50 ! Eoline; or Magnolia Vale, 1 50 

Courtship and Marriage, 1 50 The Lost Daughter, 1 50 

Rena; or, the Snow Bird, 1 50 ; The Banished Son, 1 60 

Marcus Warland 1 50 | Helen and Arthur, 1 50 

Linda; or, the Young Pilot of the Belle Creole, 1 60 

Robert Graham ; the Sequel to u Linda ; or Pilot of Belle Creole,”... 1 69 
Above are each bound ir. morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


tW Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prio*, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia. Pa. (i) 


a T. B, PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS 


MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS’ FAVORITE NOVELS. 

Complete, in twenty-three large duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth, gilt bach 
price $1 .50 each ; or $04.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box, 

Norston’s Rest, $1 50 'The Soldiers’ Orphans, $1 50 

Bertha’s Engagement, 1 50 A Noble Woman, 1 50 

Bellehood and Bondage, 1 5 0 S i 1 e n t Struggles, 1 50 


The Old Countess, 1 50 

Lord Hope’s Choice, 1 50 

The Reigning Belle, 1 50 

Palaces and Prisons, 1 50 

Married in Haste, 1 50 

W ivesand Widows, 1 50 

Ruby Gray’s Strategy, 1 50 

Doubly False, 1 50 | The Heiress, 1 50 | The Gold Brick,,.. 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


The Rejected Wife, 1 58 

The Wife’s Secret, 1 50 

Mary Derwent, 1 50 

Fashion and Famine, I 50 

The Curse of Gold, 1 50 

Mabel’s Mistake, 1 58 

The Old Homestead, 1 58 

1 50 


MISS ELIZA A. BUPUY’S WONDERFUL BOOKS. 

Complete in fourteen large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt bach, price 
$1.50 each ; or $21.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

50 
50 
50 
50 
50 
50 


A New Way to Win a Fortune $1 50 

The Discarded Wife, I 50 

The Clandestine Marriage 1 50 

The Hidden Sin, 1 50 

The Dethroned Heiress, 1 50 

The Gipsy’s Warning, 1 50 

All For Love, 1 50 


Why Did He Marry Her? $1 

Who Shall be Victor? 1 

The Mysterious Guest, 1 

Was He Guilty? 1 

The Cancelled Will, 1 

The Planter’s Daughter, 1 

Michael Rudolph, 1 50 


Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


LIST OF THE BEST COOK BOOKS PUBLISHED. 

Every housekeeper should possess at least one of the following Cook Books, as they 
would, save the price of it in a week's cooking. 

Miss Leslie’s Cook Book, a Complete Manual to Domestic Cookery 
in all its Branches. Paper cover, $1.00, or bound in cloth,. 

The Queen of the Kitchen; or, The Southern Cook Book. 

taining 1007 Old Southern Family Receipts for Cooking,... Cloth, 

Mrs. Hale’s New Cook Book, Cloth, 

Petersons’ New Cook Book Cloth, 

Widdifield’s New Cook Book, Cloth, 

Mrs. Goodfellow’s Cookery as it Should Be, Cloth, 

The National Cook Book. By a Practical Housewife, Cloth, 

The Young Wife’s Cook Book, Cloih, 

Miss Leslie’s New Receipts for Cooking, Cloth, 

Mrs. Hale’s Receipts for the Million, Cloth, 

The Family Save-All. By author e r “National Cook Book,’ 

Francatelli’s Modern Cook Book. tVith the most appr 
of French, English, German, and Italian Cookery, 
two Illustrations. One vol , 600 pages, bound in morocco cloth. 


b SI 

50 

Con- 



...Cloth, 

1 

50 


1 

50 


1 

50 


1 

50 


1 

50 


1 

O0 


1 

5fl 


1 

50 


1 

50 

” Cloth, 

1 

50 

methods 



th Sixty- 



sco clothj 

l 

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Above Booka will be sent, postage paid, on. receipt of Retail Pna* 
by X. B. Petersen & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa- 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS, a 


MRS. C. A. WARFIELD’S POPULAR WORKS. 

Complete in nine large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back, prio* 
%\ .50 each ; or $13.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Cardinal’s Daughter,... $1 50 .Miriam’s Memoirs, $1 50 

Feme Fleming 1 50 Monfort Hall, 1 50 

The Household of Bouverie,,,.. 1 50 Sea and Shore, 1 59 

h Double Wedding, 1 50 Hester Howard’s Temptation,... 1 50 

Lad/ Ernestine; or, The Absent Lord of Rocheforte, 1 5( 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

FREDRIKA BREMER’S DOMESTIC NOVELS. 

. Complete in tix large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 eaok j 
or $9.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Father and Daughter, $1 50 I The Neighbors, ,$1 59 

The Four Sisters, 1 50 | The Home, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

Life in the Old World. In two volumes, cloth, price, 3 00 

a. K. PHILANDER DOESTICKS’ FUNNY BOOKS. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 
each ; or $6.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Doesticks' Letters, $1 50 I The Elephant Club, $1 50 

Plu-Ri-Bus-Tah, 1 50 | Witches of New York, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


JAMES A. MAITLAND’S HOUSEHOLD STORIES. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth , gilt back, price $1.59 
each ; or $10.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


The Watchman, $1 50 

The Wanderer, I 50 

The Lawyer’s Story, 1 50 


Diary ©f an Old Doctor, $1 60 

Sartarce, 1 50 

The Three Cousins, 1 50 


The Old Patroon ; or the Great Van Broek Property, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE’S m 7.1 AN NOVELS, 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.99 
each ; or $10.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Sealed Packet, $1 50 | Dream Numbers,... $1 5# 

Garstang Grange, 1 50 I Beppo, the Conse.'ipt, 1 50 

I»eonora Casaloni,... 1 50 j Gemma, 1 50 | Maiiotta, 1 59 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


FRANK FORESTER’S SPORTING SCENES. 

Frank Forester’s Sporting Scenes and Characters. By Henry William 
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Author, a New Introductory Chapter, Frank Forester’s Portrait and 
Autograph, with a full length picture of him in his sheeting costume, 
Snd seventeen other illustrations, from original designs by Darloy and 
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13 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


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L’Assommoir , or, Nana’s Mother. By Emile Zola. The Greatest Novel 
ever printed. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth. 

The Shop Girls of Paris. With their daily Life in Large Dry Goods Stores. 
By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.25. 

Nana’s Brother. Son of “ Gervaise,” of “ L’Assomtnoir.” By Emile Zota s 
author of “Nana.” Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

The Joys of Life. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” “ Pot Bouille,” eta* 
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Her Two Husbands; and Other Novelettes. By Emile Zola. Price Tl) 
cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

Pot-Bouille. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana.” “Pot-Bouille.” Price 
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Nana’s Daughter. A Continuation of and Sequel to Emile Zola’s Great 
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The Mysteries of the Court of Louis Napoleon. By Emile Zola. Price 
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The Girl in Scarlet; or, the Loves of Silverc and Miette. By Emile Zola. 
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Albine ; or, The Abbe’s Temptatior. \La Fante De V Abbe Monret.) By 
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La Belle Lis t ; or, The Paris Market Girls. By Emile Zola. Price 75 
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Helene, a Love Episode; or, Une Page D' Amour. By Emile Zola. 
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A Mad Love; or The Abbe and His Court. By Emile Zola. Price 75 
cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

Claude’s Confession. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana,” “ L’Assotnmoir,' 

“ Hel&ne,” etc. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

The Mysteries of Marseilles. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” Price 
75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

Magdalen Ferat. By Emile Zola. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.25. 

In the Whirlpool. By Emile Zola. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.25. 

Th£rese Raquin. By Emile Zola. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.00. 

MRS. SOUTHWORTH’S WORKS IN CHEAP FORM. 

fshmael; or, in the Depths — being “Self-Made; or, Out of the Depth#.** 

Self-Raised; or, From the Depths. Sequel to “Ishmael.” 

The Bride of an Evening; or, The Gipsy’s Prophecy. 

The Missing Bride; or, Miriam, the Avenger. The Bridal Eve. 

The Curse of Clifton; or, The Widowed Bride. The Bride’s Fate. 

The Changed Brides; or, Winning Her Way. The Fatal Marriage^ 
Above are cheap editions, in paper cover, price 75 cents each. 

The Red Hill Tragedy. Sybil Brotherton, 

Above are cheap editions, in paper cover, price 50 cents each. 

Fashion and Famine. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. Cheap edition. 75 ot#. 


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T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 13 


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Helen’s Babies. By John Habberton. With an Illustrated Cover 
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The Annals of a Baby. Baby’s First Gifts, etc. By Mrs. Stebbins. 
Bessie’s Six Lovyrs. A Charming Love Story. By Henry Peterson. 
Father Toni and the Pope; or, A Night at the Vatican. Illustrated. 

Not His Daughter. A Society Novel. By Will Herbert. 

A Bohemian Tragedy. A Novel of New York Life. By Lily Curry. 
jLittle Heartsease. Equal to Rhoda Broughton’s. Bv Annie L. Wright 
Two Kisses. A Bright and Snappy Love Story. By Hawley Smart. 

Her Second Lovs. A Thrilling Life-like and Captivating Love Story. 

A Parisian Romance. Octave Feuillet’s New Book, just dramatized. 
Fanchon, the Cricket; or, La Petite Fadette. By George Sand. 

Two Ways to Matrimony; or, Is it Love? or, False Pride. 

^he Matchmaker. By Beatrice Reynolds. A Charming Love Story. 

The Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray. 
The Amours of Philippe; or, Philippe’s Love Affairs, by Octave Feuillet. 
Raney Cottem’s Courtship. By author of “ Major Jones’s Courtship.” 
A Woman's Mistake; or, Jacques de Trevannes. A Charming Love Story. 
The Days of Madame Pompadour. A Romance of the Reign of L-uis XV. 
The Little Countess. By Octave Feuillet, author of “ Count De Caiuors.” 
The American L’Assommoir. A parody on Zola’s “ L’Assommoir.” 

Hyde Park Sketches. A very humorous and entertaining work. 

Mis? Margery’s Roses. A Charming Love Story. By Robert C. Meyers. 
Madeleine. A Charming Love Story. Jules Sandeau’s Prize Novel. 
Carmen. By Prosper Merimee. Book the Opera was dramatized from. 
That Girl of Mine. By the author of “ That Lover of Mine.” 

That Lover of Minn. By the author of “ That Girl of Mine.” 

The Count of Monte Cristo. Cheap edition, paper cover. Price 50 cents. 

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Edmond Dantes. Sequel to Alexander Dumas’ “ Count of Monte-Cristo.* 
Monte-Cristo’s Daughter. Sequel to and end of “ Edmond Dantes.” 

The Wife of Monte-Cristo. Continuation of “ Count of Monte-Cristo.” 
The Son of Monte-Cristo. The Sequel to “The Wife of Monte-Cristo.” 
Camille; or, The Fate of a Coquette. (La Dame Aux Camelias.) 
Married Above Her. A Society Romance. By a Lady ot New York. 

The Man from Texas. A Powerful Western Romance, full of adventure, 
Erring. Yet Noble. A Book of Women and for Women. By I. G. Reed, 
The Fair Enchantress; or, How She Won Men’s Hearts. By Miss Keller. 
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Harry Coverdale’s Courtship and Marriage. Paper, 75 cts. ; cloth, $1.50, 
Those Pretty St. George Girls. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, gilt, $1.00 
Vidocq! The French Detective. Illustrated. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1J>0, 
The Black Venus. By Adolphe Bel ot. Paper c ver, 75 cents; cloth, $1.00 
La Grande Florine. By Adolphe Belot. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
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411 Books published by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, P*., 
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(4 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


PETERSONS’ SQUARE 12mo. SERIES. 

Major Jones’s Courtship. 21 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00 
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Louisiana Swamp Doctor. 6 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.0C 
^he Initials. ‘A. Z.’ By Baroness Tautphoeus. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.25 
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/Jonsuelo. By George Sand. Paper cover, Price 75 cents; cloth, $1. Of 
Countess of Rudolstadt. Sequel to Consuelo. Paper, 75 cents, clcth $1,00 
Mark Maynard’s Wife. By Frankie F. King. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.21 
The Master of L’Etrange. By Eugene Hall. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.23 
Dora’s Device. By George R. Cather. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25 c 
Snot> Papers. A Book Full of Roaring Fun. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Karan Kringle's Courtship and Journal. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50 
The Prairie Flower, and Leni-Leoti. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00 
Monsieur, Madame, and the Baby. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
L’Evangeliste. By Alphonse Daudet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
The Duchesse Undine. By II. Penn Diltz. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
The Hidden Record. By E. W. Blaisdell. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
A Russian Princess. By Emmanuel Gonzales. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
A Woman’s Perils : or, Driven from Home. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
A Fascinating Woman. By Edmond Adam. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1 .25, 
La Faustin. By Edmond de Goncourt. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Monsieur Le Ministre. By Jules Clarctie. Paper, 75 cents, cloth. $1.25. 
Winning the Battle ; or, One Girl in 10,000. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
A Child of Israel.^ By Edouard Cadol. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
The Exiles. The Russian 4 Robinson Crusoe.’ Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
My Hero. A Love Story. By Mrs. Forrester. Paper, 75 cts., doth, $1.00. 
Paul Hart; or, The Love of Ilis Life. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Mildred’s Cadet; or, Hearts and Bell-Buttons. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
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Sabine’s Falsehood. A Love Story. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Linda; or, The Young Pilotof the Belle Creole. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.25 
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Madame Bovary. By Gustave Flaubert. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00, 
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How She Won Him ! A Love Story. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25 
Angele’s Fortune. By Andre Theuriet. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
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she Earl of Mayfield. By Thomas P. May. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00 

MRS. F. H. BURNETT’S NOVELLETTES. 

fJCathleen. A Love Story. By author of “That Lass o’ Lowries.” 

Then. A Love Story. By author of “Kathleen,” “Miss Crespigny,” tic 
Li ndsay’s Luck. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, 
,?rett.y Polly Pemberton. By author of “ Kathleen,” “Theo,” etc. 

A Quiet Life. By Mrs. Burnett, author of “ That Lass o’ Lowries.” 

Miss Crespigny, also Jarl’s Daughter. By Mrs. Burnett 

Above are in paper cover, price 50 cents each., or in cloth, at $1.00 each. 
■ ■■■ 

All Books published by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa, 
Will be sent to any one, postal paid, on receipt of Eeiail Price 


r. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 11 


HENRY GREVILLE’S CHARMING NOVELS. 

Eitka > or, The Trials of Raissa. A Russian Love Story, from which the 
Play of “ Zitka,” now being performed to crowded houses at all the pri*= 
•ipal theatres in the United States, was dramatized. By Henry Greville. 
The Princess Ogherof. A Love Story. By Henry Greville. 

Above are in paper cover, price 75 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.00 each.. 

Oosia. A Russian Story. By Henry Griville, author of “ Mark of." 
Saveli’s Expiation. A Powertul Russian Story. By Henry Greviiie. 
Tania’s Peril. A Russian Love Story. By Henry Greville. 

Sonia. A Love Story. By Henry Greville, author of “ Dosia.” 

Lucie Rodey. A Charming Society Novel. By Henry Gr§ville. 
Bonne-Marie. A Tale of Normandy and Paris. By Henry Grevillo. 
Xeuie’s Inheritance. A Tale of Russian Life. By Henry Greville. 
Dournof. A Russian Story. By Henry Greville, author of “ Dosia.” 

Ma m’zelle Eugenie. A Russian Love Story. By Henry GrZville. 
Jabrielle; or, The House of Maureze. By Henry Greville. 

Friend; or, “L’Ami.” By Henry Greville, author of “Dosia.” 

Above are in paper cover, price 60 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.00 each. 
Marrying Off a Daughter. A Love Story. By Henry Greville. 

Sylvie’s Betrothed. A Charming Novel. By Henry Greville. 

Philomene’s Marriages. A Love Story. By Henry Greville. 

Duy’s Marriage; also Pretty Little Countess Zina. By Henry Griville, 
Above are in paper cover, price 75 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.25 each. 
Markof, the Russian Violinist. Paper cover, 76 cents; cloth, $1.50. 

THE “COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO SERIES.” 

The Count of Monte-Cristo. Illustrated. Paper cover, $1.00, cloth, $1.50. 
Edmond Dantes. Sequel to “ Monte-Cristo.” Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1,25. 
Monte-Criato’s Daughter. Paper cover, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25, 
The Countess of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, $1.00, morocco cloth, $1.50. 
The Wife of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, 75 cents, morocco cloth, $1.25. 
The Son of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, 75 cents, morocco cloth, $1.25. 

BOOKS BY AUTHOR OF ‘A HEART TWICE WON.’ 

i Head Twice Won; or, Second Love. A Love Story. By Mis. Eliza - 
beta Fan Loon. Morocco cloth, black and gold. Price $1.50. 

Under the Willows; or, The Three Countesses. By Mrs. Elizabeth Van 
Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth, and gold. Price $1.50. 
The Shadow of Hampton Mead. A Charming Story. By Mrs. Elizabeth 
Van Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth. Price $1.50 
The M 3 ; stery of Allanwold. A Thrilling Novel. By Mrs. Elizabeth Fan 
Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth, and gold. Price $1.50. 
The Last Athenian. By Victor Rydberg. Translated from the Swedish, 
Large 12mo. volume, near 600 pages, cloth, black and gold, price $1.75. 
.The Roman Traitor: or, The Days of Cicero, Cato, and Cataline. A Tale 
of the Republic. By Henry William Herbert. Morocco cloth, price $i .75. 
■franeatelli’s Modern Cook Book for 1887. Enlarged Edition. With th« 
most approved methods of -French, English, German, and Ital.an Cook, 
ery. With 62 Illustrations. 600 pages, morocco cloth, price $o.00. 


ill Books published by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa..* 
wiU he sent t q any one, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price. 


The Sequel to “ The Count of Monte-Cristo.” 


EDMOND DANTES. 

THE SEQUEL TO 

The Count of Monte-Cristo, by Alexander Dumas. 

“ Edmond Dantes” the Sequel to Alexander Dumas' great novel , “ The Count of 
Monte-Cristo'' is one of the most wonderful romances ever issued, and is published 
only by T. B. Peterson 6 ° Brothers. It teems with absorbing interest throughout, the 
narrative dashing on from one intensely exciting incident to another equally thrilling , 
and this, too, without the slightest pause . Just at the point where “7 he Count of 
Monte-Cristo ” ends 11 Edmond Dantes ” takes up the thread of the grandly conceived 
Plot and develops at once into a work of rare power , thorough originality and irresist- 
ible fascination. The volcanic storm on the Mediterranean, in which the Alcyon, 
with Monte-Cristo and Haydee on board, is wrecked, is an extraordinarily vivid and 
effective episode, zvhile the conflict with the brigands on the Island of Salmis and the 
burning of Monte Cristo' s palace are in the highest degree graphic and dramatic. 
Further on comes a striking and minute account of the French Revolution of 1848 , 
with the fierce struggles in the Chamber of Deputies and the bloody battles at the bar- 
ricades in the streets of Paris. The love element is plentifully represented in the 
romantic reunion of Dantes and Merck des, Captain Joliette's courtship of the myste- 
rious prima donna and the telling scenes between Dantes' daughter, Zuleika, and her 
Italian admirer, the Viscount Massetti. I he hero of the charming novel is, of course, 
Edmond Dantes , the Deputy from Marseilles, who appears as a politician laboring 
to ameliorate the condition of the oppressed classes of mankind and employing his im- 
mense wealth to promote that end. He takes a prominent part in the Revolution, his 
co-workers being the foremost communists of that time, namely, Lamartine, Ledru 
Rollin, Louis Blanc, Armand Marrast, Flocon, Albert and others. Thiers , Guizot, 
Odillon Barrot, General Lamoriciere, General Bugeaud and other famous historical 
characters are introduced, as well as Lucien Debray, Chateau- Renaud , Beauchamp, 
Maximilian Morell, Albert de Morcerf, Valentine de Villefort, Eugknie Danglars, 
Louise d' Armilly and Monte-Cristo' s Son, Espkrance, to say nothing of Benedetto and 
Ali, the Nubian. But to thoroughly appreciate the vast attractions of “ Edmond 
Dantes'' the great novel must be read. In addition to this superb romance , Petersons' 
only original, complete and unabridged editions of the “ Monte-Cristo ” Series includes 
“ The Count of Monte-Cristo,” “ The Countess of Monte-Cristo'' “ The Wife of Monie^ 
Cristo and “ The Son of Monte- Cristo,” all of which will delight the reader. 


Paper Cover, 75 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $L25. 


tUP* “ Edmond Dantes'' the Sequel to “ The Count of Monte-Cristo,” will be found 
for sale by all Booksellers and at all News Stands everywhere, or copies of it will be 
tent to any one, to any place, at once, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, 


Petersons 9 Editions of 66 Monte- Cristo Series 


MONTR-CRISTO’S DAUGHTER. Sequel to Alexander Dumas' Cele- 
brated Novel of “ The Count of Monte- Cristo," and Conclusion of “ Edmono 
Dantes l' With an Illustrated Cover, with Portrait of “ Monte- Cristo's Daugh- 
ter, Zuleikaf ou it. Every person that has read “ The Count of Monte- Cristo ” 
should get ‘ ‘ Monte- Cristo's Daughter ” at once, and read it. It is complete in 
one large duodecimo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents, or $1.25 in cloth. 

EDMOND DANTES. The Sequel to “ The Count of Monte- Cristo," by Alex 
ander Dumas. “ Edmond Dantes " is one of the most wonderful romances ever 
issued. Just at the point where “ 7 'he Count of Alonte- Cristo" ends, “ Edmona 
Dantes" takes up the fascinating narrative and continues it with marvellous 
power and absorbing interest unto the end. Every person that has read “ Th> 
Count of Monte- Cristo," should get “ Edmond Dantes" at once, and read it 
Complete in one large duodecimo volume, paper, price 75 cents, or $1.25 in cloth 

THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO. Petersons' New lllustratet 
Edition. By Alexander Dumas. With full-page Engravings, illustrative of va 
nous scenes in the work. Petersons' Edition of “ 1 he Count of Monte- Cristo'’ 
is the only Complete and Unabridged Edition of it ever translated, and it is con 
ceded by all to be the greatest as well as the most exciting and best historical 
novel ever printed. Complete in one large octavo volume of six hundred pages 
with illustrations, paper cover, price One Dollar, or $1.50 bound in morocco cloth. 

THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO. Being the Continuation of Alex- 
ander Dumas' Celebrated Novel of “ The Count of Monte- Cristo." With an 
Illustrated Cover, with Portraits of “ Monte Cristo “ Haydee ," and their faithful 
servant, “Ali," on it. Every person that has read “The Count of Monte- Cristo'' 
should get “ The Wife of Alonte- Cristo " at once, and read it. Complete in one- 
large duodecimo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents, or $1.25 in cloth. 

THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO. Being the Sequel to “ The Wife oj 
Alonte- Cristo." With an Illustrated Cover, with Portraits of the heroines in the 
work on it. Every person that has read “ The Count of Alt nte-Cristo " or “ The 
Wife of Monte- Cristo ," should get “ The Son of Mi nte-Cristo" at once, and reaa 
it. One large duodecimo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents, or £1.25 in cloth. 

THE COUNTESS OF MONTE-CRISTO. Being the Companion tc 
Alexander Dianas' Celebrated Novel of “ The Count of Alonte- Cristo," and 
fully equal to that world-renowned novel. At the very commencement of the 
novel the Count of Monte Cristo, Haydee, the wife of Monte-Crbto, and Espe- 
ranee, the son of Monte-Cristo, take part in a weird scene, in which Merc6d£s, 
Albert de Morcerf and the Countess of Monte-Cristo also participate. Complete 
in one large octavo volume, paper cover, price One Dollar, or $1.50 in cloth. 

Petersons' editions of il The Monte-Cristo Series " are for sale by all Booksellers. 

via at all j Y ews Stands everywhere, or copies of any one or all of them, will be sent to 

my one, post-paid, on remitting the price of the ones wanted to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERS ON & BROTHERS , Philadelphia , I * 


Munkacsy’s Great Picture, ‘Christ Before Pilate.’ 


CHRIST BEFORE PILATE. 

THE MOST POPULAR PICTURE IN THE WORLD. 


Size 22x28 Inches, Price $1.00. India Proofs, Size 24x33 Inches, Price $2.00 


T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, have just published an exact and perfect 
copy of Munkacsy’s great picture, “Christ Before Pilate,” which has recently 
been sold for over One Hundred Thousand Dollars, in a fine steel plate engraving, 
done in line and stipple, measuring 22 x 28 inches, which, though a Five- Dollar print, 
they have decided to sell at the extremely low price of One Dollar a copy, so as to 
bring the picture within the reach of thousands and tens of thousands who cannot see 
or own the original. The original was painted five years ago by the great Hungarian 
artist, Munkacsy, and is one of the most remarkable and greatest pictures ever painted. 
The subject is treated with unflinching realism. The scene is in the “ Judgment 
Hall,” and the hour “early in the morning.” Pilate is sitting at the right hand on 
his judgment-seat. Christ is standing before him — a heavenly submission is on his 
face; while around the Governor’s exalted seat the priests are gathered, and the high 
priest, Cainphns, is in the act of accusing Christ and demanding His death “ for 
making himself the Son of God.” One conspicuous figure among the mob is that of 
a Jew, with uplifted arms, shouting “ Crucify Him,” in the dense mob which throngs 
the palace and presses upon the Roman soldiers, one of whom is holding the crowd 
back with his spear, while below the place where Pilate sits are the accu-ing priests 
and other Judaeans. The whole picture touches the popular heart in a way that is 
simply wonderful. It is the greatest and most impressive religious picture ever 
painted, and people of all denominations will desire it, at the low price at which it is 
published. It has already been viewed by over two million persons, and is now vis- 
ited by thousands daily. Every family in the land should secure a copy of this great 
picture at once. Size 22x28 inches, which, though a Five Dollar print, is sold at 
the extremely low price of One Dollar a copy, while impressions on India Proof 
Paper, size 24x33 inches, though a Ten-Dollar picture, are sold at the low price of 
Two Dollars a copy, figures which place this magnificent reproduction of Munkacsy’s 
masterwork of “Christ Before Pilate” within easy reach of all. 

Jgggj“ Copies of eithe^ impression of the above picture will be sold to any one, or sent 
to any one, to any address, at once, postpaid, on receipt of price by the publishers. 

1 $^ Canvassers and Agents are wanted everywhere to engage in the sale of 
Munkacsy’s celebrated picture, “Christ Before Pilate,” who with ordinary indus- 
try and perseverance can easily make a good living selling it, or by extra effort can 
make a handsome surplus, all of whom will be supplied at very low rates. 

Address all letters for information, and all orders and remittances for Mun 
kacsy’s great picture, “Christ Before Pilate,” to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

306 Cliestuut Street, Philadelphia, Pa- 


By Author of ‘Nana’ & ‘L’ Assommoir.’ 


EENEE.- RENEE. 

FROM WHICH ZOLA’S NEW PLAY OF RENEE WAS DRAMATIZED. 


list op Emile zola s great works. 

Peteraow#* Translations in English for American Readers. 

Ren^e. (La Flllffce.) By Entile Zola author of “ Nana. ,”“ L' Assommoir ,” etc. With a 
fortait of Renee on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 m Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Nana! The Sequel to “ L'Assomn.air,” Nana! By Emile Zola. With a Picture 0/ 
*’Nana ” on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or One Dollar in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

L’Assommoir; or, Nana’s Mother. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana." With a 
Picture of “ Gervaise ,” Nana's mother, on th* cover Price 75 cents in paper, or One Dollar in Cloth. 

Christine, the Model; or Studies of Lovo. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana," 
and “ L' Assommoir.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1-25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

The Shop Girls of Paris, with their Life and Experiences in a Large Dry Goods Store. 
By Emile Zola , author of “Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth. 

The Mysteries of the Court of Louis Napoleon. By Emile Zola, author of 
"Nana” and “ L’ Assommoir.” Price 75 cents in paptr cover, or $1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Nana’s Brother. (Stephen Lantier.j The Sot. of “ Gervaise ” and “Lander” of “ L'As- 
sommoir.” By Emile Zola. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

The Girl in Scarlet; or. The Loves of Silvere and Miette. By Emile Zola, 
author of “Nana," and “ L’ Assommoir.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth. 

The Paris Market Girls; or. La Belle Lisa. By Entile Zola, author of “Nana,” 

and “L’Assommoir.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

A Mad Love; or. The Ahbe and His Court. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” 
and “ L’ Assommoir.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

The Joys of Life. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” “ L’ Assommoir ,” etc. With 
an Illustration on cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth. 

Claude’S Confession. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” “L’Assommoir” “Pot* 
Bouille,” “ The Girl in Scarlet,” etc. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. Black and Gold. 

Pot-Bouille. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” “L’Assommoir,” etc. Pot-Bouille. 
With an Illustrated Cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Her Two Husbands. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” “ L’ Assommoir,” “Pot- 
Bouille,” “ The Girl in Scarlet ,” etc. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth. 

H£lfcne. A Tale of Love and Passion. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” and “ L’ Assent* 
tnoir.” With a Picture of“Hellne ” on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth. 

The Mysteries of Marseilles. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” “L’Assommoir ,” 
“ The Girl in Scarlet,” etc. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Albine; or. The Abbe’s Temptation. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” and “L’As- 
sommoir.” With a Picture of “Albine'’ on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in Cloth. 

Magdalen Ferat. By Emile Zola, author of "Nana.” With a Picture of “Magdalen 
ferat ” on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Ttl^rfcse Raqtlill. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana.” With a Portrait of “Emile Zola” 
vn the cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or One Dollar in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Nana’s Daughter. A Continuation of and Sequel to Emile Zola’s Great Realistic Novel of 
“Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

JfKyf* Petersons’ American Translations of Emile Zola’s works are for sale by all Booksellers and 
a t a ll News Stands everywhere , or copies of any one book, or more of them, will be sent to any one, 
y jM y place, at once, post-paid, on remitting the price of the ones 7 vanted in a letter to the Publishers , 

T, B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


Mrs. Southworth’s Works. 

iACH IS IN ONE LARGE DUODECIMO VOLUME, MOROCCO CLOTH, GILT BACK, PRICE $1.50 EACH, 
Copies of all or any w~ill be sent post-paid, to any place, on receipt or remittances. 

SHMAEL ; or, IN THE DEPTHS. (Being “ Self-Made ; or, Out of Depth#.*} 
SELF-RAISED ; or, From the Depths. The Sequel to “ Ishmael.” 

THE PHANTOM WEDDING; or, The Fall of the House of Flint. 

THE “MOTHER-IN-LAW;” or, MARRIED IN HASTE. 

THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. 

VICTOR’S TRIUMPH. The Sequel to “A Beautiful Fiend/* 

I BEAUTIFUL FuEND ; or, THROUGH THE FIRE. 

THE LADY OF THE ISLE; or, THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 

FAIR PLAY; or, BRITOMARTE, THE MAN-HATER, 

HOW HE WON HER. The Sequel to “ Fair Play.” 

THE CHANGED BRIDES : or, Winning Her Way. 

THE BRIDE’S FATE. The Sequel to “The Changed Brides.” 
tRUEL AS THE GRAVE; or, Hallow Eve Mystery. 

TRIED r OR HER LIFE. The Sequel to “ Cruel as the Grave.” 

THE CHRISTMAS GUEST; or, The Crime and the Curse. 

THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW; or, The Brothers. 

A NOBLE LORD. The Sequel to “ The Lost Heir of Linlithgow.” 
/HE FAMILY DOOM ; or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS. 

THE MAIDEN WIDOW. The Sequel to “ The Family Doom.” 

THE GIPSY’S PROPHECY; or, The Bride of an Evening. 

THE FORTUNE SEEKER; or, Astrea, The Bridal Day. 

THE THREE BEAUTIES; or, SHANNQNDALE. 

ALLEN PRIDE; or, THE MOUNTAiN GIRL’S LOVE. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER; or, The Children of the Isle. 

THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS; or, HICKORY HALL. 

THE TWO SISTERS; or, Virginia and Magdalene. 

THE FATAL MARRIAGE ■ or, ORVILLE DEVILLE. 

NDIA; or, THF PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. THE CURSE OF CLIFTON, 
THE WIDOW’S SON; or, LEFT ALONE. 
fHE MYSTERY OF DARK HOLLOW. 

ALLWORTH ABBEY; or, EUDORA. 

THE BRIDAL EVE; or, ROSE ELMER, 

VIV3A ; or, THE SECRET OF POWER. 
fHE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. 

DRIDE OF LLEWELLYN. THE DESERTED WIFE. RETRIBUTION 


THE WIFE’S VICTORY. 
THE SPECTRE LOVER. 

THE ARTIST’S LOVE. 
THE FATAL SECRET. 

LOVE’S LA BOR WON. 
THE LOST HEIRESS. 


Mrs. Southworth’s works will be found for sale by all first-class Booksellers. 
^5©** Copies of any one, or more of Mrs. Southworth’s works, will be sent to any place, 
*■ per mail, post-paid , on remitting price of the ones wanted to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa 


*®“ DAUDET’S NEW AND THRILLING LOVE STORY. 


irar 
xi 

W IV , 

BETWEEN TVYO WOMEN. 

BY ERNEST DAUDET. 


“Which? or, Between Two Women, is the latest and most powerful novel 
from the pen of the celebrated French novelist , Ernest Daudet. It is fully worthy 
of its famous author's great reputation , and ought to be an unusually popular book, 
if power , originality and hosts of wonderfully exciting scenes can make it so. It is, 
without doubt, one of the strongest and best love romances issued from the press for a 
long while and possesses every requisite for a phenomenal success. The action is brisk 
and, spirited straight along, while the interest is of the most absorbing kind. The 
plot, which is without complication or mystery, hinges on the love of Dolores, a beau- 
tiful girl with gypsy blood in her veins, and Antoinette de Mirandol,a handsome 
heiress, for Philip de Chamondrin, a young nobleman, whose family has lost prestige 
and wealth. This rivalry gives rise to much womanly heroism and self-denial on 
the part of Dolores, who, in order to further what she considers the best interests of the 
man she loves, does nut hesitate to attempt not only the sacrifice of her heart, but also 
of her life. The scene is laid in Paris and the country, and the events are described 
with rare vigor and completeness of detail. Many of the incidents are of the most 
thrilling and dramatic description, as, for instance, the taking and burning of the 
Chateau de Chamondrin, the arrest of Philip and Dolores, the struggle between 
Coursegol and Vauquelas, Dolores' attempt to save Antoinette in the Conciergerie 
prison, and Bridoul's rescue of Coursegol and Dolores. But too much cannot be 
said in praise of the entire book, which will certainly be read with pleasure and profit 
by everybody. The characters are well drawn, and speak and act like living people, 
forming a very natural and effective group of personages. The style of composition is 
clear and flowing, and there is not a dull line in the whole book. In short, “ Which t 
or, Between Two Women," is a novel to be highly recommended . 


Paper Cover, 75 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.25. 


“ Which? or. Between Two Women," by Ernest Daudet, the celebrated French 
novelist, will be found for sale by all Booksellers and at all News Stands everywhere, 
or copies of it will be sent to any one, to any place, at once, post-paid, on remitting 
the price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETEKSO.N & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 




PETERSONS’ NEW BOOKS 


4 MARRIED ABOVE HER. A Society Romance. By a Lady 
of New York. Paper cover, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

THE CHANGED BRIDES; or, WINNING HER 
WAY. By Mrs. Southworth. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.50. 

HARRY COVERDALE’S COURTSHIP AND MAR- 
* RIAGE. Paper cover, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.50. 
SELF-RAISED; or, FROM THE DEPTHS. By Mrs 
Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.50. 
THE MAN FROM TEXAS. A Powerful Western Romance, 
full of love and adventure. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 
ISHMAEL; or, IN THE DEPTHS. By Mrs. Emma D. E. 

N. Southworth. Paper cover, 75 cents; cloth, $1.50. 

HANS BREITMANN’S BALLADS. Complete Edition and 
Unabridged , with Glossary. Morocco cloth, gilt, $4 00. 
ERRING, YET NOBLE. The Story of a Woman’s Life. 

By Isaac G. Reed, Jr. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 
KATHLEEN! THEO! A QUIET LIFE! MISS CRES- 
PIGNY! PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON! 
LINDSAY’S LUCK! and JARL’S DAUGHTER) 
By Mrs. Burnett. Paper, 50 cents each ; cloth, $1.00 each. 
THOSE PRETTY ST. GEORGE GIRLS. The most 
Popular Book of the season. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
CAMILLE; or, THE FATE OF A COQUETTE. By 
Alexander Dumas. Paper cover, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.25. 
CONSUELO; and COUNTESS OF RUDOLSTADT 
By George Sand. Paper, 75 cents each ; cloth, $1.00 each. 
HELEN’S BABIES; and MRS. MAYBURN'S TWINS 
By John Habherton. Paper, 50 cents each ; cloth, $1.00 each 
ANNALS OF A BABY! BESSIE’S SIX LOVERS! ana 
BERTHA'S BABY ! Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00 each 
NANA! L’ASSOMMOIR! THE LADIES’ PARADISE 
POT-BO UILLE ! and HER TWO HUSBANDS 
each by Emile Zola, also NANA’S DAUGHTER, the Seque 
to “Nana.” Paper, 75 cents each ; cloth, $1.00 or $1.25 each 

The above works are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents , at all Newi 
Stands everywhere , and on all Railroad Trains , or copies of any one or all of them wiU 
sent to any one , post-paid , on remitting the price of the ones wanted to the Publishers. 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, F« 


PETERSONS’ NEW BOOKS. 


ZITKA ; or. The Trials Of Raissa. By Henry Greville. Play 
dramatized from this hook. Paper, 75 cents ; clotn. $1 00 
FASHION AND FAMINE. By Mrs. Abn S. Stephens - Cheap 
Edition. Paper cover, 75 cents. Library Edition, cloth. $1.50 
ERANGATELLPS MODERN COOK BOOK FOR 1887. 
Enlarged Edition. With the most approved methods of 
French, English, German, and Italian Cookery. With 62 
Illustrations. 600 pages, morocco cloth, price $5.00. 
MONTE CRISTO’S DAUGHTER. Sequel to and end of 
•‘Edmond Dantes.” Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

LITTLE HEARTSEASE. Equal to Rhoda Broughton’s best 
book. By Annie L. Wright. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
NOT HIS DAUGHTER. A New American Novel. By Will 
Herbert. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 

A BOHEMIAN TRAGEDY. A Spicy Novel of New York 
Life. By Lily Carry. Paper cover, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
THE MASTER OF L’ETRANGE. A New American Novel. 

By Eugene Hall. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.25. 

KARAN KRINGLE’S COURTSHIP AND JOURNAL, 
With 21 Full-Page Illustrations. Morocco cloth, price $1.50, 
DORA’S DEVICE. A Highly Dramatic Story. By George R. 

Gather , of Ashville, Alabama. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.25. 
MARK MAYNARD’S WIFE. A Novel in Real Life. By 
Frankie Fading King. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

THE SHOP GIRLS OF PARIS, and NANA’S BROTHER. 

By Emile Zola. Paper, 75 cents each ; cloth, $1.25 each. 
THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO. Petersons’ Illustrated 
Edition. Paper, $1.00; cloth, $1.50. Cheap edition, 50 cents. 
EDMOND DANTES. Only Sequel to “ The Count of Monte- 
Cristo.” Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

{THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO, and THE SON OF 
MONTE-CRISTO. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.25 each. \ 
THE COUNTESS OF MONTE-CRISTO. With her Por- 
trait. Paper cover, $1.00; cloth, $1.50. 

frfr* The above works are for sale by nil Booksellers and News Agents , at all Newt 
Stands everywhere, and on all Rail-Road Trains , or copies of any one or all of them w>U 
t, \nt to any one , post-paid , on remitting the price of the ones wanted to the Publishe *' 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, V •* 


Sequel to “Count of Monte-Cristo,” and End of “Edmond Dantes.” 





SEQUEL TO 

ALEXAN DER DUMAS’ FAMOUS NOVEL, “THE COUNT OF MONTE- 
CBISTO,” AND CONCLUSION OF “EDMOND DANTES.” 


“ Monte- Cristo' s Daughter ," the latest addition to the justly celebrated “Monte- 
Cristo Series ," is the Sequel to “The Count of Monte-Cristo ," Alexander Dumas' 
best novel , and the continuation and conclusion of that vastly popular romance , 
“Edmond Dantes ." In point of brilliancy, power and absorbing interest it is fully 
equal to its famous predecessors , holding the attention of the reader uninterruptedly 
and exciting wonder straight along, so original, startling and graphic is it. I he 
action takes place mainly in Rome, Paris and the environs of the Eternal City, and 
remarkably telling features are the ardent love scenes and vividly depicted flirta- 
tions. Many of the episodes are in the highest degree dramatic and impressive, as, 
for instance, the intrusion into the convent garden , the abduction and murder, the 
midnight burglary, the adventure in the thieves' den of the Cite d'Antin, the de- 
struction of the cavern palace of the Isle of Monte- Cristo, the modern miracle worked 
by the Hebrew physician, the desperate hand-to-hand fight culminating in a fierce 
duel first with pistols and then with knives, the raid on the bandits and the singular 
trial of the brigand chief before the Cardinals in the Judgment Hall of the Vatican. 
The heroine is Monte-Cristo' s youthful daughter, Zideika,the child of Hay die, the 
Greek slave. She is a beautiful and lovely girl. Her young and ardent suitor, the 
Viscount Giovanni Massetti, is a dashing, impetuous Roman youth, who is accused 
of dark crimes. The Count of Monte- Cristo is one of the leading personages of the 
novel, and the reader is introduced to many of the original Monte-Cristo characters , 
among them Merc Ills, Albert de Morcerf \ Danglars, Maximilian Morrel, Peppino, 
Beppo, Ali, Valentine Morrel, Eugenie Danglars and Mile, d' Armilly . Luigi 
Vampa also reappears, while Esperance, the soil of Monte- Cristo, is brought conspic- 
uously into the foreground. Of the new characters old Pasquale Solara, the morose 
shepherd, is powerfully drawn, and his unfortunate daughter, Annunziata, is de- 
picted ruith the utmost naturalness. The aged Count Massetti is a typical Roman 
aristocrat, Lorenzo a sprightly youth and Dr. Absalom a weird creation. “ Monte- 
Cristo' s Daughter" will give pronounced satisfaction to all who read it and should 
prove a great hit. The other volumes of “Petersons' Monte-Cristo Series" are 
“ 7 he Count of Monte- Cristo ," “Edmond Dantes'' “ 7 he Countess of Monte- Cristo ," 
“ The Wife of Monte-Cristo," and “ 7he Son of Monte- Cristo ," which will be found 
for sale by all booksellers and at all news stands everywhere. 


Paper Cover, 75 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.25. 


“ Monte-Cristo' s Daughter" will be found for sale by all Booksellers, and at 
nil News Stands everywhere, also on all Railroad Trains, cr copies of it will be sent 
to any one , to any place , at once, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS. Philadelphia, Pa, 


HENRY GREYILLE’S NEW RUSSIAN STORY. 


THE PRINCESS ROUBINL 


A RUSSIAN LOVE STORY. 



AUTHOR OF “ DOSIA,” “ SAVELl’S EXPIATION,” “MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER,” "SONIA,** 
“ZITKA,” “ THE PRINCESS OGHEROF,” “MARKOF,” “ MAM’zELLE EUGENIE,” “ DOURNOF,” 

“A FRIEND,” ‘‘GUY’S MARRIAGE,” “SYLVIE’S BETROTHED,” “ GABRIELLE,” 
“philomene’s MARRIAGES,” “tania’s PERIL,” “ xenie’s INHERITANCE,” 

“ LUCIE RODEY,” “ BONNE-MARIE,” ‘‘PRETTY LITTLE COUNTESS ZINA,” ETC. 


“The PRINCESS Roubine,” from the pen of that charming writer, Henry Gre- 
ville, author of “ Dosia ,” is a masterpiece in the highest sense of the word. One of the 
most delightful love-stories ever printed, it enthralls the reader from the start and by 
its absorbing interest finnly holds the attention until the final sentence is reached. 
Never has a book been written with such tender pathos, such touching episodes and 
such phenomenal strength. It contains humor, too, humor of that genial kind' people 
always appreciate so highly. The love scenes are intense, but, at the same time, ut- 
terly devoid of that mawkishness the majority of novelists seem to consider inseparable 
from the tender passion. Dramatic episodes are furnished in abundance, and the 
plot is powerful in the extreme. “ The Princess Roubine ” is a Russian romance. 
It opens at Peterhof, but the main action occurs in St. Petersburg, though there are 
delicious glimpses of country life and yachting on the River Neva. There is a char- 
acteristic Russian wedding , with all the quaint customs and ceremonies, the bride 
and groom belonging to the better class of peasants. The night scene on the river 
in front of St. Petersburg, with the burning of the hay boats and the destruction of 
Korzof’s yacht , is exceedingly picturesque and thrilling ly natural. The inauguration 
of the hospital is superbly described, and the reader is touched in the keenest fashion 
by the emotions of Nadia and her noble husband and the unobtrusive good-hearted- 
ness of the shrewd ivorldly-wise Prince Roubine. The death of Korzof is a touch 
of the heroic and the pathetic never surpassed. Later on, the scenes in which Nadia’s 
children and their orphan companions, Volodia and his sister, participate, are de- 
picted with rare and telling skill, while Sophie’s experience with Nicholas Stepline 
is treated with a naturalistic force and knowledge of human nature worthy of Zola. 
The key-note of the book is the Princess Roubine’ s resolution to wed a poor man. This 
resolution is embodied in an oath made in a public garden at Peterhof in the presence 
of numerous representatives of high society. Nadia’s principles descend to her son and 
daughter, and the result closely verges upon disaster. From the first line to the last, 
“ The Princess Roubine ” is brilliant, powerful and unique. It willplease both men 
and women, while youthful readers of both sexes vn.ll find it a perfect mine of enter- 
tainment, fascination and profit. Translated in capital style and preserving all the 
grace, piquancy and effect of the original, the book should achieve a great success. 


Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.00. 


“The Princess Roubine, ” by Henry Greville, and all of Henry Gr'eville’s works, 
named above, will be found for sale by all Booksellers and at all News Stands every- 
where, or copies of any or all of them will be sent to any one, to any place, at once , 
post-paid, on remitting the price to the publishers, 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


HENRY GREVILL E’S GREAT BOOKS. 

Henry Gr faille's superb novels , all of which are published by T. B. Peterson <5r» 
Brothers , Philadelphia , Pa., hold a deservedly high rank. They are certainly among 
the finest love romances extant and possess extraorditiary interest, while displaying 
great power, a thorough knowledge of human nature , rare descriptive ability and a ^ 
pervading vein of humor as enjoyable as it is subtle. Madame Gr faille lived a num- 
ber of years in Russia, and her Russian novels are vastly admired. 1'he Messrs. 
Petersons' translations were made expressly for them by well-known and able transla- 
tors, some of them in Paris under Madame Gr faille's supervision, and are faithful 
reproductions of the originals, retaining all the distinguishing traits of Madame 
Gr faille's peculiarly agreeable style , a style unsurpassed by that of any other celebrated 
French author. 1'hey should be read by everybody. Following are their names; 

DOSIA. A Russian Story. Crowned by the French Academy . 
SAVELI’S EXPIATION. {V Expiation de Sav'eli.) 

SONIA. A Story of Home Life in Russia. 

LUCIE RODEY \ or, The Wife and Mother Faithful unto Death, 
MAM’ZELLE EUGENIE. A Russian Love Story. 

DOURNOF. (La Niania.) A Graphic Story of Russian Life, 
BONNE-MARIE. A Tale of Normandy and Paris. 

XENIE’S INHERITANCE. (V Heritage de X'enie , .) 
GABRIELLE; or, La Maison de Maureze. 

TANIA’S PERIL. (A Travers Champs.) A Russian Story. 

A FRIEND. (VAmie.) A Novel of Every-day Life in Paris. 

Above books are 50 cents each in paper cover , or $1.00 in cloth . 
PRETTY LITTLE COUNTESS ZINA. (Les Koumiassine.) 
MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER. (Marier Sa Fille.) 
SYLVIE S BETROTHED. (Le Fianc'e de Silvie.) 
PHILOMENE’S MARRIAGES. ( Marriages de Philomel.) 
GUY’S MARRIAGE. ( Madame de Dreux.) A Woman's Life. 
Above books are 75 cents each in paper cover, or $1.25 in doth. 
ZITKA;” or, The Trials of Raissa. Play Dramatized from it. 

THE PRINCESS OGHEROP. (La Princesse Ogheroj.) 

Above books are 75 cents each in paper cover , or $1.00 in cloth. 
MARKOF. (Le Violin Russe.) One large volume, cloth, $1.50. 

Above books are for sale by all Booksellers, at all News Stands everywhere, and, 
on all Rail-Road Trains, or copies of any one, or all of the books, will be sent to any one , 

<r* •nee, per mail, post-paid, on remitting the price of the ones wanted to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 

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